> ♦ 



4 



LECTURES 

AND t 
i 

S E R M O S 

BY THE 

Yeky Eev. THOMAS N. BUEKE, O.P. 




NEW YORK: 

P. M. HAVERTY, 5 BARCLAY STREET. 
1872. 



The Library 
OF Congress 



IE) X 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S72, by 

P. M. HAVERTY, 
lu tlie Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



Imprimatur , 

F. DoMiNicus Lilly, 



F. Petrus Sablon, 

RecUores Ordinis. 



LaNGE, LlTTLK & HiLLMAN, 
HEIXTfES, ELKCTE0TYPEB8 AND STBREOTYPERS, 

108 to 114 WoosTKK Sr., >. Y. 



So (<9xm 
THE MOST EEV. JOHN MAC HALE, 



AECHBISHOP OF TUAM. 



Clarwm d ijencrnbile pnicit. 



THE GREAT ARCHBISHOP OF THE WEST; 
THE LOVER OF THE POOR; 

THE DEFENDER OF THE WEAK ; 

THE SHIELD OF THE PERSECUTED ; 
THE HONOR OF IRELAND'S PRIESTHOOD; 
THE JOY AND THE GLORY OF THE IRISH PEOPLE AT HOME AND ABROAD 

THE FOLLOWING PAGES ARE HUMBLY AND LOVINGLY 



PREFACE. 



FEEL that some apology is due to my readers for 
the appearance of this book. I certainly never should 
have permitted the publication of these lectures if it 
were in my power to prevent it ; but as parties, strangers to me, 
had announced their intention of publishing them in book form, 
for their own benefit, I thought it incumbent on me to antici- 
pate this by publishing the lectures myself. First, that they 
might have the benefit of my own revision (however hasty and 
imperfect), and secondly, because I considered that my Order 
had the best, and in fact, the only just title to any profits that 
might arise from the sale of the book. There is no pretension 
to anything like style in these lectures, as they are mereh', with 
some exceptions, the newspaper reports, hastily revised. If, 
however, there be anything in them contrary* to the teachings 
of the Catholic Church, that, I am the first to condemn and re- 
pudiate. 




CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

St. Patrick, 9 

Funeral Oration on O'Connell, - -- -- -- -34 

The Solemn Triduum, 46 

The Christian Man the Man of the Day, 62 

The Cathohc. Church the Mother of Liberty, 78 

The Church, the Mother and Inspiration of Art, ----- 99 

The Groupings of Calvary, - - - - - - - - 120 

Christ on Calvary, ------ 137 

Temperance, -- 160 

The Attributes of Catholic Charity, - - - - - - - I73 

The History of Ireland, as Told in Her Ruins, - - - - 193 

The Supernatural Life, the Absorbing Life of the Irish People, - - 224 
The Catholic Church the Salvation of Society, - - - . 238 

The Immaculate Conception, - - - 261 

The immaculate Conception. Second Sermon, - - - - 271 
The Pope — The Crown which He Wears, and of which no Man can 

Deprive Him, - 287 

On the First Beatitude, - - 309 

On the Second Beatitude, - - - - - - - - -315 

The Church, 322 

The Incarnation, - - - -3-9 

Activity of Faith, - -- -- -- -- - 336 

Music in Catholic Worship, - -- -- -- - 344 

Catholic Education, - - - 352 



8 



Contents. 



PAGE 

The National Music of Ireland, -------- 370 

The Resurrection, ^97 

The Pope's Tiara— Its Past, Present, and Future, - _ - . 409 

Good Works with Faith Necessary to Salvation, - - -. ^ 431 

The Peace of God, 440 

The Exiles of Erin, - 453 

The Confessional: Its Effect on Society, ------ 479 

The Blessed Eucharist, - 500 

The Month of Mary, - - - - 519 

The Catholic Church the True Emancipator, - - - - - 531 

Christian Charity, - - -550 

The Irish People in Their Relation to Catholicity, - - - - 567 

The Catholic Church the True Regenerator of Society, - - - 5^0 

The Catholic Church and the Wants of Society, - - - - 6to 

The Divine Commission of the Church, 634 



Lectures and Sermons 

OF THE 

VERY REV. THOMAS N. BURKE, O.P. 



ST. PATRICK. 

[Delivered in St. Patrick's Cathedral, New York, on Sunday, March 17th, 1872.] 

"Let us now praise men of renown, and our fathers in their generation ; * 
these men of mercy, whose godly deeds have not failed ; good things continue with 
their seed. Their posterity are a holy inheritance ; and their seed hath stood in the 
covenants : and their children for their sakes remain for ever ; their seed and their 
glory shall not be forsaken. Let the people shew forth their wisdom, and the Church 
declare their praise." — Eccles. 44. 

E are assembled to obey the command of God express- 
ed in my text. One of the great duties of God's 
Church, to which she has ever been most faithful, is 
the celebration of her saints. From end to end of the 
year the Church's saints are the theme of her daily thanksgiving 
and praise. They are her heroes, and therefore she honors 
them ; just as the world celebrates its own heroes, records 
their great deeds, and builds up monuments to perpetuate 
their names and their glory. The saints were the living 
and most faithful representatives of Christ our Lord, of his 
virtues, his love, his actions, his power, so that He lived in 
them, and wrought in them, and through them, the redemption 
of men ; therefore the Church honors, not so much the saint, as 
Christ our Lord in the saint ; for, in truth, the wisdom of saintli- 
ness which she celebrates, wherever it is found, is nothing else, 
as described to us in Scripture, than " a vapour of the power of 
God, and a certain pure emanation of the glory of the Almight}* 
God ; the brightness of eternal light, and the unspotted 

mirror of God's majesty, and the image of His goodness ; ^ 




lo 



St. Patrick. 



and through nations she con\'eyeth herself into holy souls, she 
maketh the friends of God and prophets." Xor does the 
Church's honor of the saints derogate from that of God, as some 
say; otherwise the Lord, who is jealous of His divine power 
and glory, would never command us to praise the saints as he 
does in the words of my text, and in many other parts of the 
Holy Scriptures : Praise ye the Lord in his saints," God is 
wonderful in His saints," etc., etc. Xay, so far from lessening 
our love and praise of God, the saints are the ver\' channel 
through which praise is most acceptably given to Him, and if 
the Scriptures command us to praise the Lord in all His works, 
how much more in His saints — the masterpieces of nature and 
grace I Let no one, therefore, suppose that we are assembled to- 
day to dishonor God by honoring his saint: let no one imagine 
that we are come together to bless and praise other than Our 
God Himself, the Father of lights," for every best and every 
perfect gift " which He has given us through our great Apostle, 
St. Patrick. He was "a man of renown," for his work and his 
name are known and celebrated by all men ; and our father 
in his generation," for he begat us to God by the Gospel." 
He was, moreover, a man of mercy," for, when he might have 
lived for himself and for the enjoyment of his own ease, he chose 
rather to sacrifice himself, and to make his life cheap and of no 
account in his sight, and this through the self-same mercy which 
brought the Lord Jesus Christ forth from the bosom of the 
Father, namely, mercy for a people who were perishing. His 

godly deeds have not failed," for the Lord crowned his labors 
with blessings of abundance. " Good things continue with his 
seed," for the faith vrhich he planted still flourishes in the land. 

His posterity are a holy inheritance," for the scene of his 
labors, grown famous for holiness, obtained among the nations 
the singular title of ''the Island of Saints.", "And his seed 
hath stood in the covenants," for it is well known and acknowl- 
edged that no power, however great, has been able to move them 
from the faith once delivered to the saints. " His children for 
his sake remain forever," for he blessed them, as we read, that 
they should never depart from the fold of the "one Shepherd" 
into which he had gathered them, and his prayer in heaven has 
verified for 1500 years his prophetic blessing on earth. "His 
seed and his glory shall not be forsaken," for " they are the 



SL Patrick. 



children of saints, and look for that life which God will give to 
those that never change their faith from Him." Seeing, there- 
fore, that all the conditions of the Inspired Word have been so 
strikingly fulfilled in our saint, is it wonderful that -we should 
also desire to fulfill the rest of the command, Let the people 
shew forth His wisdom, and the Church declare His praise ? " I 
propose, therefore, for your consideration — first, the character 
of the saint himself ; secondly, the work of his Apostleship ; and 
thirdly, the merciful providence of Almighty God toward the 
Irish Church and the Irish people. The light of Christianity 
had burned for more than four hundred years before its rays 
penetrated to Ireland. For the first three hundred years of the 
Church's existence the sacred torch was hidden in the catacombs 
and caves of the earth, or, if ever seen by men, it was only when 
held aloft for a moment in the hands of a dying martyr. Yet 
the flame was spreading, and a great part of Asia, Armenia, 
Egypt, Spain, Italy, and Gaul had already lighted their lamps 
before that memorable year 312, when the Church's light, sud- 
denly shooting up, appeared in the heavens, and a Roman 
Emperor was converted by its brightness. Then did the spouse 
of Christ walk forth from the earth, arrayed in all the beauty 
of holiness," and her 'Might arose unto the people who were 
seated in darkness and in the shadow of death." The Christian 
faith was publicly preached, the nations were converted, churches 
and monasteries were everywhere built, and God seemed to 
smile upon the earth with the blessings of Christian faith and 
Roman civilization. A brief interval of repose it was ; and God, 
in His mercy, permitted the Church just to lay hold of society, 
and establish herself amongst men, that she might be able to 
save the world, when, in a few years, the Northern barbarians 
should have swept away every vestige of the power, glory, and 
civilization of ancient Rome. It was during this interval, be- 
tween the long-continued war of persecution and the first fall 
of Rome, that a young Christian was taken prisoner on the north- 
ern shores of Gaul, and carried, with many others, by his captors, 
into Ireland. This young man was St. Patrick. He was of noble 
birth, born of Christian parents, reared up with tenderest care, and 
surrounded from his earliest infancy with all that could make 
life desirable and happy. Now he is torn away from parents 
and friends, no eye to look upon him with pity, no heart to feel 



12 



Sl Patrick. 



for the greatness of his misery ; and in his sixteenth year, just 
as life was opening and spreading out all its sweets before him, 
he is sold as a slave, and sent to tend cattle upon the dreary 
mountains of the far north of Ireland, in hunger and thirst, in 
cold and nakedness ; and there for long years did he live, for- 
gotten and despised, and with no other support than the Chris- 
tian faith and hope within him. These, however, failed him not ; 
and so at length he was enabled to escape from his captivity 
and return to his native land. Oh, how sweet to his eyes and 
ears must have been the sights and sounds of his childhood ! 
how dear the embraces, how precious the joy of his aged mother 
when she clasped to her "him that Avas dead, but came to life 
again!" Surely he will remain with her now, nor ever expose 
himself to the risk of losing again jo}"s all the dearer because 
they had once been lost. Xot so, my brethren. Patrick is no 
longer an ordinary man ; one of us. A new desire has entered 
into his soul and taken possession of his life. A passion has 
sprung up within him for which he must live and devote his 
future. This desire, this passion, is to preach the Christian faith 
in Ireland, and to bring the nation forth from darkness into 
the admirable light " of God. In the days of his exile, even 
when a slave on the mountain-side, he heard, like the prophet, 
a voice within him, and it said, Behold, I have given my words 
in thy mouth. Lo, I have set thee this day over the nations 
and over kingdoms, to root up and pull down, and to waste and 
destroy, and to build and to plant. Gird up thy loins and arise, 
and speak to them all that I command thee." And when he was 
restored to his country and to those who loved him, the same 
voice spoke again, for he heard in a dream the voice of many 
persons from a wood near the western sea, crying out, as with 
one voice, " We entreat thee, O holy youth, to come and walk 
still among us." It was the voice of the Irish," says the saint 
in his Confessions, " and I was greatly affected in my heart." 
And so he arose, and once more leaving father and mother, 
houses and lands, went forth to prepare him^self for his great 
mission. Having completed his long years of preparatory study, 
he turned his face to Rome, to the fountain-head of Christian- 
ity, the source of all jurisdiction and Divine mission in the 
Church, the great heart whence the life-blood of faith and sound 
-doctrine flows even to her most distant members, the new Jeru- 



St. Patrick. 



13 



salem and Sion of God, of which it was written of old, from 
Sion shall the law go forth, and the Word of the Lord from 
Jerusalem ;" and here in Rome St. Celestine the First laid his 
hands upon Patrick and consecrated him first bishop of the 
Irish nation. 

And now he returns to our shores a second time ; no longer 
a bondsman, but free, and destined to break the nation's chains : 
''You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free 
no longer dragged thither an unwilling slave of men, but drawn 
by irresistible love, the w^illing slave of Jesus Christ ; no more a 
stripling, full of anxious fears ; but a man, in all the glory of a 
matured intellect, in the strength and vigor of manhood, in the 
fullness of power and jurisdiction ; with mind prepared and 
spirit braced to bear and brave all things, and with heart and 
soul utterly devoted to God and to the great enterprise before 
him. Oh, my brethren, what joy was in heaven at that hour 
when the blessed feet of the Bishop Patrick touched the 
shores of Ireland — the ancient " Isle of Destiny." This was 
her destiny surely, and it is about to be fulfilled — that she should 
be the home and the mother of saints — of doctors and holy 
solitaries, and pure virgins and martyrs robed in white, and of a 
people acceptable before the Lord. That the Cross of Christ 
should be the emblem of her faith forevermore, of her faith 
and of her trial, of her tears and sorrow, and of her victory, 

which conquereth the world." O golden hour amongst the 
hours ! when the sands of the Irish shore first embraced softly 
and lovingly the beautiful footprints of him who preached peace 
and good things ; wdien Moses struck the rock, and the glisten- 
ing waters of salvation flowed in the desert land ; when the 

Name, which is above all names," was first heard in the old 
Celtic tongue, and the Lord Jesus, entering upon his new in- 
heritance, exclaimed, ''This is My resting-place forever and 
ever ; here shall I dwell because I have chosen it." 

The conversion of Ireland, from the time of St. Patrick's land- 
ing to the day of his death, is, in many respects, the strangest 
fact in the history of the church. The saint met with no op- 
position ; his career resembles more the triumphant progres-s of 
a king than the difficult labor of a missionary. The Gospel, 
with its lessons and precepts of self-denial, of prayer, of purit}', 
in a word, of the violence which seizes on heaven, is not con- 



14 



St. Patrick. 



genial to fallen man. His pride, his passions, his blindness of 
intellect and hardness of heart, all oppose the spread of the 
Gospel ; so that the very fact that mankind has so universally 
accepted it, is adduced as a proof that it must be from God. 
The work of the Catholic missionary has, therefore, ever been, 
and must continue to be, a work of great labor with apparently 
small results. Such has it ever been amongst all the nations; 
and yet Ireland seems a grand exception. She is, perhaps, the 
only country in the world that entirely owes her conversion to 
the work of one man. He found her universally Pagan. He 
left her universally Christian. She is, again, the only nation that 
never cost her apostle an hour of sorrow, a single tear, a drop 
of blood. She welcomed him like a friend, took the Word from 
his lips, made it at once the leading feature of her life, put it 
into the blood of her children and into the language of her 
most familiar thoughts, and repaid her benefactor with her 
utmost veneration and love. And much, truly, had young 
Christian Ireland to love and venerate in her great Apostle. 
All sanctity, coming as it does from God, is an imitation of God 
in man. This is the meaning of the word of the Apostle, 
those whom he foreknew and predestined to' be made con- 
formable to the image of His Son, the same He called, and 
justified, and glorified." Conformity to the image of God is 
therefore Christian perfection or sanctity, " the mysterv^ which 
was hidden from eternity with Christ in God." But as our 
Lord Jesus Christ, " In whom dwelt the fullness of the God- 
head corporally," is an abyss of all perfections, so do we find 
the saints differing one from another in their varied participa- 
tions of His graces and resemblance to His divine gifts, for so 
" star differeth from star in glor}'\" Then, amongst the apostles, 
we are accustomed to think and speak of the impulsive zeal of 
Peter, the virginal purity of John, etc., not as if Peter were not 
pure, or John wanting in zeal, but that where all was the work 
of the Spirit of God, one virtue shone forth more prominently, 
and seemed to mark the specific character of sanctity in the 
saint. Now, amongst the many great virtues which adorned 
the soul of Ireland's Apostle, and made him so dear to the 
people, I find three which he made especially his own, and 
these were, a spirit of penance, deepest humility, and a devour- 
ing zeal for the salvation of souls. A spirit of penance. It is 



St. Patrick. 



15 



remarkable, and worthy of special notice in these days of self- 
indulgence and fanciful religions, how practical the gospel is. 
It is pre-eminently not only the science of religious knowledge, 
but also of religious life. It tells us not only what we are to 
believe, but also what we are to do. And now, what is the 
first great precept of the gospel ? It is penance. My brethren, 
*'do penance, for the kingdom of God is at hand." And when, 
on the day of Pentecost, the Prince of the apostles first raised 
up the standard of Christianity upon the earth, the people 
when they heard these things had compunction in their hearts, 
and said to Peter, and to the rest of the Apostles, What shall 
we do, men and brethren ? and Peter said to them, do pejiance^ 
and be baptized, every one of you." This spirit of penance 
was essentially Patrick's. His youth had been holy ; prevented 
from earliest childhood by the blessings of sweetness," he had 
grown up like a lily, in purity, in holy fear and love. Yet for 
the carelessness and slight indiscretions of his first years, he was 
filled with compunction, and with a life-long sorrow. His sin, 
as he called it, was always before him, and with the prophet he 
cried out, " Who will give water to my head, and a fountain of 
tears to mine eyes, and I will weep day and night." In his 
journeyings he was wont to spend the night in prayer, and tears, 
and bitter self-reproach, as if he v/as the greatest of sinners ; 
and when he hastened from Royal Meath," into the far zvcst 
of the island, w^e read that when Lent approached, he suspended 
his labors for a time, and went up the steep, rugged side of 
Croagh Patrick, and there, like his Divine Master, he spent the 
holy time in fasting and prayer ; and his tears were his food 
night and day." Whithersoever he went he left traces of his 
penitential spirit behind him ; and Patrick's penance and Pat- 
rick's purgatory are still familiar traditions in the land. Thus, 
my brethren, did he ''sow in tears," who was destined to reap 
in so much joy ; for so it is ever with God's saints, who do his 
work on this earth ; going, they went and wept, scattering the 
seed, but coming, they shall come with joy." His next great 
personal virtue was a wonderful humility. Now, this virtue 
springs from a twofold knowledge, namely, the knowledge 
of God and of ourselves. This was the double knowledge for 
which the great St. Augustine prayed : " Lord, let me know 
thee, and know myself, that I may love thee and despise my- 



i6 



St. Patrick. 



self;" and this did our saint possess in an eminent degree. 
This knowledge of God convinced him of the utter worthless- 
ness of all things besides God, and even of God's gifts, except 
when used for Himself ; and therefore he did all things for God 
and nothing for self, and of " his own he gave Him back again 
he lost sight of himself in advancing the interests and the cause 
of God ; he hid himself behind his work in which he labored for 
God ; and strangely enough, his very name and history come down 
to us by reason of his great humility, for he would write himself 
a sinner, and calls himself Patrick, an unworthy, and ignorant, 
and sinful man," for so he saw himself, judging himself by the 
standard of infinite holiness in Jesus Christ, by which we also 
shall all be one day judged. Looking into himself he found 
only misery and weakness, wonderfully strengthened, not by 
himself, but by God ; poverty and nakedness, clothed and en- 
riched, not by himself, but by God ; and, fearful of losing the 
Giver in the gifts, he put away from him the contemplation of 
what God had made him, and only considered what he was him- 
self. Thus was he always the most humble of men. Even when 
seated in glory and surrounded by the love and admiring vene- 
ration of an entire people, never was his soul moved from the 
solid foundation of humility, the twofold knowledge; and so he 
went down to his grave a simple and an humble man. And yet 
in this lowly heart there burned a mighty fire of love, a devour- 
ing zeal for the souls of his brethren. Oh ! here indeed does he 
shine forth likened unto the Son of God ; " for like our Divine 
Lord and Master, Patrick was a zealous lover of souls." He 
well knew how dear these souls were to the sacred heart of Jesus 
Christ — how willingly the Lord of glory had spent Himself, and 
given His most sacred and precious blood for them : how it was 
the thought of their salvation that sustained Him during the 
horror of His passion ; in the agony of His prayer ; when His 
sacred flesh w^as torn at the pillar ; when the cruel thorns were 
driven into His most holy brows; when, with drooping head and 
wearied eyes, and body streaming blood from every open wound, 
He was raised up on the cross to die heart-broken and aban- 
doned, with the anger of God and the insults of men poured 
upon him. Patrick knew all this, and it filled him with transports 
of zeal for souls, so that, like the great apostle, he wished to be 
as accursed for them ; and to die a thousand times rather than 



St. Patrick. 



17 



that one soul, purchased so dearly, and the offspring; of so much 
love and sorrow, should perish. Therefore did he make himself 
the slave and the servant of all, that he might gain all to God. 
And in his mission of salvation no difficulties retarded him, no 
danger frightened him, no labor or sacrifice held him back, no 
sickness subdued him, no infirmity of body or mind overcame 
him. Old age came upon him, yet he spared not himself, nor 
did he for a moment sit down to count his years, or to number 
his triumphs, or to consider his increasing wants ; but his voice 
was clear and strong and his arm untiring, though he had reaped 
a harvest of many years and had borne the burthen of the day 
and the heat ; " and his heart was young, for it was still growing, 
in the faith of those around him. Even to the last day of his 
life his youth was renewed like the eagle." He repeatedly 
journeyed throughout the length and breadth of the land, car- 
ing and tending with prayer, and blessing, and tears, the plants 
which he had planted in this new vineyard of God : and grace 
was poured abroad from his lips, and virtue went forth from 
him," until the world was astonished at the sight of a whole 
nation converted by one man, and the promise made of old was 
fulfilled in Patrick, I will deliver to you every place that the 
sole of your foot shall tread upon, and no man shall be able to 
resist thee all the days of thy life." And now we come to the 
question. What did St. Patrick teach, and in what form of 
Christianity did he expend himself for God ? For fifteen hun- 
dred years, my brethren, Christianity meant one thing, one doc- 
trine, one faith, one authority, one baptism ; now, however, in 
our day, this same Christianity, though as undivided, as true, 
as exclusive, as definite as ever, is made to signify many things ; 
and men, fondly imagining that our ancestors had no greater 
unity than ourselves, ask what form of doctrine did wSt. Patrick 
preach to the Irish people? I answer: He preached the whole 
cycle of Catholic truth as it was in the beginning, is now, and 
ever shall be to the end of time. He taught them that Christ's 
most sacred body and blood are really and truly present in the 
Blessed Eucharist, so that we find an Irish writer of the same 
century (Sedulius) using the words we are fed on the body 
and the members of Christ, and so we are made the temples of 
God ; " again, the language used by the Irish Church at the time, 
as even the Protestant Bishop Usher acknowledges, concerning. 



1 8 St. Patrick. 



the Mass, was ''the making of the body of the Lord." In sup- 
port of the same truth we have the beautiful legend of St. Brid- 
gid — which, even if its truth be disputed, still points to the popu- 
lar faith and love whence it sprang — how, when a certain child, 
named Nennius, was brought to her, she blessed him, and 
prophesied that his hand should one day give her the Holy 
Communion ; whereupon the boy covered his right hand and 
never again let it touch any profane thing, nor be even uncov- 
ered, so that he was called '' Nennius na laumJi glas,'' or, Nen- 
nius of the clean hand, out of devotion and love to the most 
Holy Sacrament. St. Patrick taught the doctrine of penance 
and confession of sins and priestly absolution ; for we find, 
amongst the other proofs, an old penitential canon of a synod 
held under the saint himself in 450, in which it is decreed that '' if 
a Christian kill a man, or commit fornication, or go in to a 
soothsayer after the manner of the Gentiles, he shall do a year of 
penance ; when his year of penance is over, he shall come with 
witnesses, and afterwards he shall be absolved by the priest." 
He taught the invocation of saints, as is evident from nu- 
merous records of the time. Thus, in a most ancient life of St. 
Bridgid we find the words, There are two holy virgins in 
heaven who may undertake my protection — Mary and Bridgid 
— on whose patronage let each of us depend." In like manner, 
we find in the synods of the time laws concerning the '' obla- 
tions for the dead ;" in the most ancient Irish missals Masses 
for the dead are found with such prayers as Grant, O Lord, that 
this holy oblation may work pardon for the dead and salvation 
for the living;" and in a most ancient life of St. Brendan it is 
stated that ''the prayer of the living doth much profit the 
dead." But, my brethren, as in the personal character of the saint 
there were some amongst his virtues that shone out more con- 
spicuously than the others, so in his teaching there were certain 
points which appear more prominently, which seemed to be im- 
pressed upon the people more forcibly, and to have taken pecu- 
liar hold of the national mind. Let us consider what these 
peculiar features of St. Patrick's teaching were, and we shall 
see how they reveal to us what I proposed as the third point of 
this sermon, namely, the merciful providence of God over the 
Irish Church and people. They were the following: Fidelity 
to St. Peter's chair and to Peter's successor, the Pope of Rome ; 



Patrick. 



19 



devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary ; prayer and remembrance 
for the dead ; and confiding obedience and love for their bishops 
and priests. These were the four great prominent features of 
Patrick's teaching: by the first, namely, fidelity to the Pope, he 
secured the unity of the Irish Church as a living member of the 
Church Catholic; by the second, devotion to the Blessed 
Virgin, he secured the purity and morality of the people ; by 
the third, care of the dead, he enlisted on the side of Catholic 
truth the natural love and strong feelings of the Irish character; 
and by the last, attachment and obedience to the priesthood, 
he secured to the Irish Church the principle of internal union, 
which is the secret of her strength. He preached fidelity and 
unswerving devotion to the Pope — the head of the Catholic 
Church. Coming direct from Rome, and filled with ecclesiasti- 
cal knowledge, he opened up before the eyes of his new children 
and revealed to them the grand design of Almighty God in His 
Church. He showed them in the world around them the 
wonderful harmony which speaks of God ; then rising into the 
higher world of grace, he preached to them the still more 
wonderful harmony of redemption and of the Church, — the 
Church, so vast as to fill the whole earth, yet as united in doc- 
trine and practice as if she embraced only the members of one 
small family or the inhabitants of one little village ; the 
Church, embracing all races of men, and leaving to all their full 
individual freedom of thought and action ; yet animating all 
with one soul, quickening all as with one life and one heart ; 
guiding all with the dictates of one immutable conscience, and 
keeping every, even the least, member, under the dominion of 
one head. Such was the Church on which Patrick engrafted 
Ireland — ''A glorious Church, without spot or wrinkle ;" a per- 
fect body, the very mystical body of Jesus Christ, through 
which 'Sve, being wild olives, are engrafted on Him, the true 
olive-tree," so that ''we are made the flesh of His flesh, and 
bone of His bones." Now, Patrick taught our fathers, with 
truth, that the soul, the life, the heart, the conscience, and the 
head of the Church is Jesus Christ, and that His representative 
on earth, to whom He has communicated all His graces and 
powers, is the Pope of Rome, the visible head of God's Church, 
the Bishop of Bishops, the centre of unity and of doctrine, the 
rock and the corner-stone on which the whole edifice of the 



20 



St. Patrick. 



Church is founded and built up. All this he pointed out in 
the Scriptures, from the words of our Lord to Peter. Peter 
Avas the shepherd of the fold, whose duty it was to feed both 
lambs and sheep " with every word that cometh from the 
mouth of God." Peter was the rock to sustain and uphold the 
Church : " thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my 
Church " (words which are the very touchstone of faith in these 
days of sorrow). Peter's Avas the strong, unerring voice which 
was ever to be heard in the Church, defining her doctrines, 
warning off enemies, denouncing errors, rebuking sinners, guid- 
ing the doubtful, strengthening the weak, confirming the strong; 
and Jesus said, " Thou, O Peter, confirm thy brethren." Patrick 
taught the Irish people not to be scandalized if they saw the 
cross upon Peter's shoulders, and the croAvn of thorns upon his 
head, for so Christ lives in His Church and in her supreme 
pastor ; but he also taught them that he who strikes Peter 
strikes the Lord ; he taught them what history has taught us, 
that "whosoever shall fall upon that stone shall be bruised; 
and upon whomsoever it shall fall it will grind him to powder." 
He taught them that in the day when they separated from Peter 
they separated from Christ, as did the foolish men in the Gos- 
pel ; " After this many of his disciples went back and walked 
no more w^ith him. Then Jesus said to the twelve. Will you also 
go away? And Simon Peter answered Him: Lord, to whom 
shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life." Thus it 
Avas, my brethren, that He bound them to the rock of ages," 
to Peter's chair, with firmest bounds of obedience and love, and 
infused into their souls that supernatural instinct, Avhich, for 
fifteen hundred years, has kept them, through good report and evil 
report, through persecution and sorrow, faithful and loyal to the 
Holy See of Rome. It was a bond of obedience and love that 
bound Ireland to Rome. Thus, in the beginning of the seventh cen- 
tury, when the Irish bishops assembled to consider the question 
of celebrating Easter, we find the Fathers selecting some wise 
and humble men," and sending them to Rome for instruction, 
" as children to their mother ;" and this in obedience to a primi- 
tive law of the Irish Church, which enacted that, in every diffi- 
culty that might arise, the question should be referred to the 
Head of Cities," as Rome was called. This devotion to the 
Holy See saved Ireland in the day of trial. 



Patrick. 



21 



The next great feature in Patrick's preaching was devotion to 
the Mother of God. Of this we have abundant proof in the 
numerous churches built and dedicated to God under her name, 
Ce<vTf)poiU ^xx-\-\ie {Tea rnpoill M /mire) ^ or Mary's Church, became 
a famihar name in the land. In the far west of Ireland, where 
the traditions of our holy faith are still preserved, enshrined in 
the purest form of our grand old Celtic language, the sweet name 
of the Mother of God is heard in the prayers and songs of the 
people, in their daily familiar converse, in the supplications of 
the poor, not under the title of our Lady," or of " the Blessed 
Virgin," but by the still more endearing name of £Uuirte SiVi <\t<x-\-\i 
( Muire Mathair), Mary Mother." And so it was that Patrick 
sent his Catholic doctrines home to the hearts of the people. 
He preached Jesus Christ under the name by which He is still 
known and adored in that far western land : 2t)<vc V)<s, 2ll<\T5b-|T)e 
( Mac 7ia MaigJidine ) ^ " the Virgin's Son," thus admirably insin- 
uating the great mystery of the Incarnation, and preaching Jesus 
through Mary ; and Mary herself he preached, with all her 
graces and glories, as Mary Mother." The example of her 
virginal purity and maternal love he made the type of the Irish 
maiden and mother ; and so well did they learn their high 
lesson, that they have been for ages the admiration of the world, 
and the glory of their afflicted country. The devotion to Mary 
sank deep into the heart of the nation. So well had they 
already learned to love and appreciate her, that, in a few years 
after their conversion to the faith, when they would express their 
love and admiration for the first great Irish virgin saint — St. Brid- 
gid — they thought they had crowned her with glory when they 
called her " the Mary of Ireland." This devotion to Mary vv^as a 
protecting shield over Ireland in the day of her battle for the faith. 

The third great prominent point in St. Patrick's preaching 
was the doctrine of Purgatory, and consequently, careful thought 
and earnest prayer for the dead. This is attested by the ordi- 
nances of the most ancient Irish synods, in which oblations, 
prayers, and sacrifice for the dead are frequently mentioned, as 
evidently being the practice, frequent and loving, of the people. 
They were not unmindful of the dead, " like others who have no 
hope." Every ancient church had its little graveyard, and the 
jealous care of the people, even to this day, for these conse- 
crated spots, the loving tenacity with which they have clung 



22 



St. Patrick. 



to them at all times, speak of their faith in this great doctrine, 
and tell us how much Irish hope and love surrounds the grave. 

Nothing is our own except our dead," says the poet, and so 
these affectionate hearts took with joy the doctrine of mercy, 
and carried their love and their prayer beyond the tomb into 
the realms of expiation, where the dross of earth is purged away, 
the gold and silver refined, and souls saved are prepared for 
heaven, ''yet so as by fire." This doctrine of the Church, so 
forcibly taught by Patrick, and warmly accepted by the Irish 
people, was also a great defence to the nation's faith during the 
long ages of persecution and sorrow. 

Finally, the great saint established between the people and their 
priesthood the firmest bonds of mutual confidence and love. In 
the Catholic Church the priest is separated from men and con- 
secrated to God. The duties of his office are so high, so holy, 
and supernatural, and require such purity of life and devotion 
of soul, that he must, of necessity, stand aloof from amongst 
men and engage himself with God ; for, to use the words of the 
apostle, he is '' the minister of Christ and the dispenser of the 
mysteries of God." Hence, every Catholic looks upon the priest 
as a supernatural man ; supernatural in the unction of his priest- 
hood, in his office, his power, his life, his duties, and most sacred 
in his person as the anointed of the Lord. This was the idea 
of the priesthood which Saint Patrick impressed upon the Irish 
people. The very name by which the priest has ever been 
known in our language, and which has no corresponding word 
in the English tongue, signifies ''a sacred man and a giver of 
sacred things." Such is the exalted dignity of the priest- 
hood, such the knowledge and matured sanctity required 
for, and the tremendous obligations and duties imposed 
upon it, that we generally find the first priests of a newly con- 
verted people strangers ; men who in Christian lands were 
brought up and educated for their high mission. It would seem 
as if the young Christianity of a people, like a vine but newly 
planted, were unable yet to bear such full matured fruit of holi- 
ness. But it was not so in Ireland, my brethren. There we 
behold a singular instance of a people who immediately pro- 
duced a national priesthood. The priests and bishops of Ire- 
land, who assisted and succeeded St. Patrick in his great work, 
were almost to a man Irishmen. So conn;enial was the soil on 



5/. Patrick. 



23 



which the seedling of Christianity fell, that forthwith it sprung 
up into the goodly tree of all holiness and power ; and so the 
aged apostle saw around him, in "the ring of his brethren," 
those whom he had himself baptized, anointed, and consecrated 
into the ministry of God's altar and people. Taken thus from the 
heart of the people they returned to them again laden with divine 
gifts, and, living in the midst of them, joyfully and contentedly 
ministered unto them ''in all things that are of God." A com- 
munity of joy and sorrow, of good and of evil, was thus estab- 
lished between the priesthood and the people of Ireland ; an 
intercourse the most familiar yet most reverential ; an union of 
the strictest kind, founded in faith, fidelity, and affection, and 
cemented by centuries of tears and of blood. 

For more than a thousand years the work of St. Patrick was 
the glory of Christendom. The Virgin Church of Ireland, un- 
stained even by one martyr's blood, became the prolific mother 
of saints. Strange indeed, and singular in its gloiy, was the 
destiny of Innisfail. The Irish Church knew no childhood, no 
ages of painful and uncertain struggle to pat on Christian usages 
and establish Christian traditions. Like the children in the early 
ages of the Church, who were confirmed in infancy, immediately 
after' baptism, Ireland was called upon as soon as converted to 
become at once the mother of saints, the home and refuge of 
learning, the great instructress of the nations ; and, perhaps, the 
history of the world does not exhibit a more striking and glori- 
ous sight than Ireland for the three hundred years immicdiately 
following her conversion to the Catholic faith. The whole island 
was covered with schools and monasteries, in which men, 
the most renowned of their age, both for learning and 
sanctity; received the thousands of students who flocked to 
them from eveiy land. Whcle cities were given up to them ; as 
we read of Armagh, which was divided into three parts — " Trian- 
more," or the j;own proper; '' Trian-Patrick,'' or the cathedral 
close ; Trian-Sasscnagli,'' or the Latin quarter, the home of the 
foreign students. To the students the evening star gave the sig- 
nal for retirement, and the morning sun for awaking. When, at 
the sound of the early bell, says the historian, "two or three 
thousand of them poured into the silent streets and made their 
way towards the lighted church, to join in the service of matins, 
mingling, as they went or returned, the tongues of the Gael, the 



24 



SL Patrick. 



Cimbri, the Pict, the Saxon, and the Frank, or hailing and an- 
swering each other in the universal language of the Roman 
Church, the angels in heaven must have loved to contemplate 
the union of so much perseverance with so much piety." And 
thus it was, not only in St. Patrick's own city of Armagh, but in 
Bangor, in Clonard, in Clonmacnoise, in Mayo ; of the Saxons 
in Tagmahon and Beg-Erin, on the Slaney; in famed Lismore, 
on the Blackwater ; in Mungret, on the lordly Shannon ; in the 
far-off Islands of Arran, on the Western Ocean ; and in many 
another sainted and historic spot, where the round tower and 
the group of seven churches still remain, silent but eloquent 
witnesses of the sanctity and the glory of Ireland's first Chris- 
tianity. The nations, beholding and admiring the lustre of 
learning and sanctity which shone forth in the holy isle, united in 
conferring upon Ireland the proudest title ever yet given to a land 
or a people ; they called her ''the Island of Saints and Doctors." 

The voice of history clearly and emphatically proclaims that 
the intellectual supremacy and guidance of the Christian 
world belonged to Ireland from the sixth to the ninth cen- 
turies. But, although religion may flourish in the halls of 
the university, and be fairly illustrated in the peaceful lives 
of the saints, yet, there is one crown, and that, indeed, the 
very countersign of faith, — '^victoria qiice vincit mundum fides,'' 
— which can only rest on the brows of a church and a 
nation which has been tried in the arena of persecution and 
war ; and that crown is victory. The bay-tree may flourish by 
the river-side ; the cedar may rear its majestic head on the 
mountain-top; leaf and fair flower, and the fullness of fruit may 
be there ; but it is only in the dark hour, when the storm sweeps 
over the earth, and every weak thing yields to it, and is carried 
away by its fury, that the good tree is tested, and its strength 
is proved. Then do men see whether it has struck its roots deep 
into the soil, and so twined them about the hidden rocks that 
no power can tear them out. The good ship may sail before 
the prosperous gales, and '' walk the waters " in all her beauty 
and majesty ; but it is only on the morning after the storm, 
when the hurricane has swept over the face of the deep, when 
the angry waves have beaten upon her, and strained to its 
utmost every element of her strength — seeking to destroy her, 
but in vain, — that the sailor knows that he can trust to' the 



St. Patrick. 



25 



heart of oak, and sleep securely in his noble vessel. Thus it is 
with the Church in Ireland. Her beauty and her sanctity were 
known and admired both of God and man ; but her Lord was 
resolved that she should wear such crown of victory as never 
was placed on a nation's brows; and therefore, at two distinct 
periods of her history, was she obliged to meet and conquer a 
storm of persecution and of war unequalled in the world's annals. 
The first of these great trials came upon Ireland at the begin- 
ning of the ninth century, when the Northmen, or Danes, invaded 
the country in mighty force. They came not only as the enemies 
of Ireland's nationality, but much more of her faith ; and we 
invariably find that their first and most destructive fury was 
directed against the churches, monasteries, and schools. The 
gloomy and terrible worship of Odin was to replace the religion 
of Christ ; and for three hundred long years the whole land was 
covered with bloodshed and confusion, the nation fighting with 
heroic courage and perseverance, in defence of its altars and 
homes ; until, at the close of the eleventh century, Ireland rose 
up in her united strength, shook off the Pagan and fierce invad- 
ers from her virgin bosom, and cast them into the sea. The 
faith and religion of Christ triumphed, and Ireland was as Cath- 
olic, though far from being as holy, at the end of the eleventh 
as she was at the end of the eighth century. Now we can only 
realize the greatness of this result by comparing it with the his- 
tory of other nations. Behold, for instance, how completely 
the Mussulman invasions destroyed the Christianity of those 
ancient peoples of the East who had received the faith from the 
lips of the apostles themselves ; how thoroughly the Saracens 
succeeded, in a few years, in destroying the Christian faith of 
the north of Africa, — that once famous and flourishing Church, 
the Alexandria of St. Mark, the Hippo of St. Augustine, the 
Carthage of St. Cyprian. History attests that nothing is more 
subversive of the religion of a people than long-continued war ; 
and of this great truth we have, without going to the East or to 
Africa, a most melancholy proof in the history of England. 
''The Wars of the Roses," as the strife between the Houses of 
Lancaster and York was called, cover a space of only thirty 
years, from 1455 to 1485. This war was not directed at all 
against religion, but was simply a contention of two great rival 
Houses struggling for the sovereignty ; and yet it so demoral- 



26 



St. Patrick. 



ized the English people that they were prepared to accept, 
almost without a struggle, the monstrous form of religious error 
imposed upon them at the so-called Reformation, — an heretical 
Church with a tyrant, an adulterer, and a murderer for its head. 
Contrast with these and many other such terrible examples the 
glory of a nation that emerged from a contest of three hundred 
years, which was really a religious war, with faith unimpaired, 
and untarnished by the least stain of superstition or infidelity to 
God. 

It is not necessary for us to-day to recall the sad events that 
followed the Danish invasion of Ireland. The crown of empire 
fell from Ireland's brows, and the heart broke in the nation's 
bosom. 

" The emerald gem of the western Avorld 
Was set in the crown of the stranger." 

It is, however, worthy of remark that although Ireland never 
was united in her opposition to her English invader, as she had 
been at Clontarf, still the contest for national existence was so 
gallantly maintained that it was four hundred years since the 
first Norman invasion, before the English monarch ventured to 
assume the title of "King of Ireland." It was in 1 169 the 
English first landed, and it was on the 19th of June, 1541, that 
the royalty of Ireland was first transferred to an English dynasty, 
and the Lordship of the Island of Saints conferred on one of the 
most wicked and inhuman monsters that ever cursed the earth, 
King Henry VIII. And now a new era of persecution and 
sorrow opened upon Ireland. The nation was commanded to 
give up its faith and religion. Never, since the beginning of the 
world, was an all-important question more solemnly put ; never 
has it been more triumphantly and clearly answered. The ques- 
tion was : Were the Irish people prepared to stand by their 
ancient faith, to unite in defence of their altars, to close with 
the mighty persecuting power of England, and fight her in the 
cause of religion ? Solemnly and deliberately did Ireland take 
up the gage and accept the great challenge. The issue seemed 
scarcely doubtful. The world refused to believe that a people 
who could never be united in the defence of their national ex- 
istence would unite as one man in defence of religion ; or that 
the power which had succeeded in breaking Ireland's sceptre 
and wresting her crown should be utterly defeated in its might- 



St. Patrick. 



27 



iest and most persistent efforts to destroy Ireland's ancient faith. 
Yet so it was to be. The Island of Saints and Doctors " was 
destined to be a land of heroes and martyrs, and the sacred 
cause of Ireland's nationality was destined to be saved in the 
victory which crowned her wonderful and glorious battle for her 
faith. This is not the time nor the occasion to dwell upon the 
details of that terrible struggle in which the whole strength of 
earth's mightiest people was put forth against us ; which lasted 
for three hundred years ; which was fought out on a thousand 
battle-fields ; which deluged Ireland with the best blood of her 
children, and reduced her fairest provinces, over and over again, 
to the condition of a waste and desert land. But the Celt was en- 
trenched in the citadel of God ; the light of divine truth was upon 
his path, the power of the Most High nerved his arm, and the 
spirit of Patrick hung over him, like the fiery cloud that overshad- 
owed the hosts of Israel upon the plains of Edom and Madian. 

Ireland's preservation of the Catholic faith has been a puzzle 
to the world, and men have sought to explain in many different 
ways the extraordinary phenomenon. Some ascribe it to our 
natural antipathy and opposition to England and everything 
English ; others again allege the strong conservatism of the Irish 
character, and its veneration for ancient rites and usages, merely 
because they are ancient ; whilst English historians and philoso- 
phers love to attribute it to the natural obstinacy and wrong- 
headedness which they say is inherent in the Irish. I do not 
deny that, amongst the minor and human causes that influenced 
the religious action of the Irish people, there may have been a 
hatred and detestation of England. The false religion was pre- 
sented to our fathers by the detested hands that had robbed 
Ireland of her crown ; it was offered at the point of the sword 
that had shed (often treacherously and foully) the blood of her 
bravest sons ; the nauseous dose of Protestantism was mixed in 
the bowl that poisoned the last of her great earls — Owen Roe 
O'Neil. All this may have told with the Irish people ; and I 
also admit that a Church and religion claiming to be of God, 
with such a divinely appointed head as the saintly Henry the 
Eighth — such a nursing mother as the chaste Elizabeth — such 
gentle missionaries as the humane and tender-hearted Oliver 
Cromwell, may have presented difficulties to a people whose wits 
were sharpened by adversity, and who were not wholh* igno- 



28 



St. Patrick. 



rant of the Christian character, as illustrated in the history and 
traditions of their native land. 

We may also admit to a slight extent the conservatism of the 
Irish character and its veneration for antiquity. Oh, how much 
our fathers had to love in their ancient religion ! Their history 
began with their Christianity ; their glories were all intertwined 
with their religion ; their national banners was inscribed with the 
emblem of their faith, ''the green, immortal Shamrock;" the 
brightest names in their history were all associated with their 
religion — " Malachi of the collar of gold," dying in the midst 
of the monks, and clothed with their holy habit on an island of 
Lough Ennel, near MuUingar, in Meath — Brian, " the great 
King," upholding the crucifix before his army on the morning 
of Clontarf, and expiring in its embraces before the sunset — the 
brave Murkertach O'Brien answering fearlessly the threat of 
William Rufus — for, when the English king said, looking towards 
Ireland, " I will bring hither my ships, and pass over and con- 
quer the land ; " '' Hath the King," asked the Irish monarch, 
" in his great threatenings said, ' if it please God? ' " And when 
answered, no; "Then tell him," exclaimed the Irish hero, "I 
fear him not, since he putteth his trust in man and not in God" 
— Roderick O'Connor, the last " High King" of Ireland, closing 
his career of disaster and of glory amongst the canons of the 
Abbey of Cong — saint, and bard, and hero, all alike presented 
themselves to the national mind surrounded by the halo of that 
religion which the people were now called upon to abandon and 
despise. Powerful as was the appeal of history and antiquity, 
I cannot give it any great weight in the preservation of Ireland's 
Catholicity. I do not believe that adherence to ancient usage 
because of its antiquity is a prominent feature of Irish character. 
We are by no means so conservative as our English neighbors. 
It is worthy of remark that usages and customs once common to 
both countries, and long since abandoned and forgotten in Ire- 
land (Christmas " waits," for instance, harvest-home feasts, May- 
pole dances, and the like) are still kept up faithfully and univer- 
sally throughout England. The bells which, in Catholic times, 
called the people to early Mass on Sunday morning, are still 
rung out as of old, through mere love of ancient usage, although 
their ringing from Protestant towers in the early morning has 
no meaning whatever; for it invites to no service or prayer. 



5/. Patrick. 29 

And yet, in the essential matter of religion, where antiquity itself 
is a proof of truth, the conservative English gave up the old 
faith for the new ; whilst the Irish — in other things so regardless 
of antiquity — died and shed their blood for the old reHgion, 
rather than turn for one instant to the strange imposture of the 
new. 

But none of these purely natural explanations can explain the 
supernatural fact, that a whole people preferred, for ten genera- 
tions, confiscation, exile, and death, rather than surrender their 
faith; and the true reason lies in the all-important circumstance, 
that the religion of the Irish people was the true religion of 
Jesus Christ, bringing not only light to the intelligence, but 
grace and strength to the heart and will of the nation. The light 
of their divine faith showed them the hollowness and fallacy of 
Protestantism, in which they recognized an outrage upon com- 
mon sense and reason, as well as upon God ; and the grace of 
thQir holy Catholic religion enabled them to suffer and die in its 
defence. Here it is that we recognize the providence of God in 
the preaching of St. Patrick. The new and false religion as- 
sailed precisely those points of Catholic teaching which he had 
engraved most deeply on the mind and heart of Ireland, as if he 
had anticipated the trial and prepared for it. Attachment to 
the Holy See was more than a sentiment ; it was a passion in 
the Irish bosom. Through good report and evil report, Ireland 
was always faithful to Peter's chair; and it is a curious fact, 
that, when the Christian world was confused by the pretensions 
of Antipopes, and all the nations of Christendom were, at one 
time or other, led astray, so as to acknowledge some false pre- 
tender, Ireland, with an instinct truly supernatural, never failed 
to discover, to proclaim, and to obey the true pontiff. She is 
the only Catholic nation that never was, for a moment, separated 
from Peter, nor mistaken in her allegiance to him. Her prayer, 
her obedience, her love, were the sure inheritance of each succeed- 
ing Pope, from Celestine, who sent Saint Patrick to Ireland, to 
Pius, who, in our own day, beheld Patrick's children guarding 
his venerable throne, and prepared to die in his glorious cause. 
In every Catholic land union with Rome is a principle. In Ire- 
land it was a devotion. And so, when the evil genius of Pro- 
testantism stalked through the land, and with loud voice de- 
manded of the Irish people separation from Rome, or their li\ es, 



30 St. Patrick. 

— the faithful people of God consented to die, rather than to re- 
nounce the faith of their fathers, transmitted to them through 
the saints. 

Devotion to the Mother of God was the next great feature of 
Patrick's preaching and of Ireland's Catholicity. The image of 
all that was fairest in nature and grace, which arose before the 
eyes of the people, as depicted by the great apostles, captivated 
their imaginations, and their hearts. They called her in their 
prayers " Midcn dheclisJi^ their darling Virgin. In every family 
in the land the eldest daughter was a Mary ; every Irish maid or 
mother emulated the purity of her virginal innocence, or the 
strength and tenderness of her maternal love. With the keen- 
ness of love they associated their daily sorrows and joys with 
hers ; and the ineffable grace of maiden modesty which clung to 
the very mothers of Ireland seemed to be the brightest reflec- 
tion of Mar^^ which had lingered upon the earth. Oh, how 
harshly upon the ears of such a people grated the detestable 
voice which would rob Mary of her graces, and rob the world of 
the light of her purity and the glory of her example ! Never 
was the Mother of God so dear to Ireland as in the days of the 
nation's persecution and sorrow. Not even in that bright day 
when the Virgin iMothcr seemed to Avalk the earth, and to have 
made Ireland her home, in the person of their own St. Bridget, 
was her name so dear and the love of her so strong, as in the 
dark and terrible time when, church and altar being destroyed, 
every cabin in the land resounded with Mary's name, invoked 
in the Holy Rosary, the great devotion that saved Ireland's 
faith. 

The third great leading feature of our holy religion assailed by 
Protestantism was the sweet and tender doctrine of prayer and 
love for the dead. That which is opposed to divine truth is 
always, when we analyze it, an outrage on the best instincts of 
man. Remembrance of those who are gone, and a desire to 
help them, to communicate with them, seems natural to us all ; 
and the more tender-hearted and affectionate and loving a people 
are, the more deeply will they realize and appreciate the Catholic 
doctrine of Purgatory, and prayer for the dead. How terrible is 
the separation of death, as seen from the Protestant point of 
view ! In the Catholic church this mystery of death is despoiled 
of its worst bitterness. It is only a removal from our bodily 



SL Patrick. 



31 



sight, as if the loved one were only gone on a journey for a few 
days, to return to us again. Our intercourse with him does not 
cease ; nay, we can do more for him now than ever we could in 
life, and by our prayers obtain for him the relief and consolation 
that will never be forgotten during the long day of eternity in 
Heaven. To a people like the Irish, naturally affectionate, and 
strongly attached to. each other, the Christian doctrine of prayer 
for the dead must always be grateful. Our history served to 
deepen this portion of our Catholic devotion, for it was a history 
of sorrow and of national privation ; and sorrow softens and en- 
larges the heart. A people who had lost so much in life turned 
the more eagerly and lovingly to their dead. I remember once 
seeing an aged woman weeping and praying over a grave in Ire- 
land ; and when I questioned her, endeavoring to console her, 
she said, Let me cry my fill ; all that I ever had in this world 
are here in this grave ; all that ever brought me joy or sorrow is 
here under this sod ; and my only consolation in life is to come 
here and speak to them, and pray for them, and weep." We 
may imagine, but we cannot realize, the indignation of our 
fathers, when the heartless, sour-visaged, cold-blooded men of 
Geneva came to them to tell them, that henceforth they must be 
" unmindful of their dead; like others who have no hope." This 
doctrine may do for the selfish, light-hearted, thoughtless world- 
ling, who loves nothing in death, and who in life only loves for 
his own sake ; but it would scarcely be acceptable to a generous, 
pure, and loving race, and withal 2^ nation of mourners, as the 
Irish were, when the unnatural doctrine was first propounded to 
them. 

Finally, the new religion was represented to the Irish people 
by men who grotesquely represented themselves as successors 
of the apostles. The popular mind in Ireland had derived its 
idea of the Christian priesthood from such men as Patrick, 
Columba, of lona, and Kevin, of Glendalough. The great 
majority of the clergy in Ireland were at all times monastic — 
men who added to the character and purity of the priest the 
sanctity and austerity of the Cenobite. The virtues of Ireland's 
priesthood made them the admiration of other lands, but the 
idols of their own people. The monastic glories of ancient Lis- 
more and Bangor were still reflected from Mellifont and Bective : 
the men of Glendalough and ancient Armagh lived on in the 



32 



St. Patrick, 



Franciscan and Dominican abbeys throughout the land ; and 
the Catholic Church presented, in the 1 6th century, in her Irish 
clergy, the same purity of life, sanctity and austerity of morals, 
zeal, and learning, which illumined the world in ages gone by. 
Steeped as our people were in sorrow, they could not refrain 
from mirth at the sight of the holy apostles" of the new 
religion, the men who were to take the place of the Catholic 
bishops, and priests, and monks, to teach and illustrate by their 
lives the purer gospel which had been just discovered — the Mor- 
monism of the i6th century. English renegade monks, English 
apostate priests, English drunken brawlers, with a ferocious 
English army at their back, invaded the land, and, parading them- 
selves, with their wives or concubines, before the eyes of the 
astonished and disgusted people, called upon the children of St. 
Patrick and St. Columba to receive them as the ministers of 
Christ, and the dispensers of the mysteries of God." Their 
religion was worthy of them — they had no mysteries to dispense 
to the people ; no sacrifice, no penance, no confession of sin, no 
fasting, no vows to God, no purity, no counsels of the Gospel, 
no sacrament of matrimony, no priesthood, no anointing of the 
sick, no prayer for the dead. Gracious God ! They came to a 
people whom they had robbed of their kingdom of earth, and 
demanded of them also the surrender of the Kingdom of 
Heaven ! Was ever heard such audacity ! What wonder that 
Ireland took her own priest, her soggartJi aroon,'' to her 
bosom ! Never did she know his value till now. It was only 
when she had seen his hideous counterpart that she realized all 
that she possessed in the humble child of St. Francis and St. 
Dominick. The sunshine is all the more welcome w'hen we have 
seen the blackness of the night ; the sweet is all the sweeter 
w4ien we have tasted bitterness ; the diamond shines all the 
brighter when its dull, glassy counterfeit is set beside it ; and 
the Angel of Light has all the purer radiance of heaven around 
him, after the affrighted eye has caught a glimpse of the Spirit 
of Darkness. As strangers, the ministers of Protestantism have 
lived in Ireland for three hundred years ; as strangers they live 
in the land to-day. The people and their clergy, united, have 
fought the good fight, have kept the faith," and we have lived 
to see the triumph of that faith in our own day. 

Now, I say, that in all this, we see the Providence of God in 



St. Patrick. 



33 



the labor of Ireland's glorious apostle. Who can deny that the 
religion which St. Patrick gave to Ireland is divine? A thou- 
sand years of sanctity attest it ; three hundred years of martyr- 
dom attest it. If men will deny the virtues which it creates, the 
fortitude which it inspires, let them look to the history of Ire- 
land. If men say that the Catholic religion flourishes only be- 
cause of the splendor of its ceremonial, the grandeur of its liturgy, 
and its appeal to the senses, let them look to the history of Ire- 
land. What sustained the faith when church and altar dis- 
appeared ? when no light burned, no organ pealed, but all was 
desolation for centuries? Surely the divine life, which is the 
soul of the Church, of which the external worship and cere- 
monial are but the expression. But if they will close their eyes 
to all this, at least there is a fact before them — the most glorious 
and palpable of our day — and it is, that Ireland's Catholicity has 
risen again to every external glory of worship, and triumphed 
over every enemy. Speaking of our Lord, St. Augustine says. 
In that He died He showed Himself man ; in that He rose 
again He proved . Himself God." Has not the Irish Church 
risen again to more than her former glory? The land is covered 
once more with fair churches, convents, colleges, and monas- 
teries, as of old ; and who shall say that the religion that could 
thus suffer and rise again is not from God ? This glorious tes- 
timony to God and to His Christ is thine, O holy and venerable 
land of my birth and of my love ! O glor}^ of earth and Heaven, 
to-day thy great apostle looks down upon thee from his high 
seat of bliss, and his heart rejoices ; to-day the angels of God 
rejoice over thee, for the light of sanctity which still beams upon 
thee ; to-day thy troops of virgin and martyr saints speak thy 
praises in the high courts of heaven. And I, O Mother, far 
away from thy green bosom, hail thee from afar — as the prophet 
of old beholding the fair plains of the promised land — and pro- 
claim this day that there is no land so fair, no spot of earth to 
be compared to thee, no island rising out of the wave so beau- 
ful as thou art ; that neither the sun, nor the moon, nor the 
stars of heaven, shine down upon anything so lovely as thee, O 
Erin ! 



3 



FUNERAL ORATION 

ON 

O'CONNELL. 



[On the occasion of the removal of the remains of Ireland's Liberator to their final 
resting-place in Glasnevin, beneath the Round Tower and Sepulchre, which a grate- 
ful countr}' raised to her best and noblest son, this oration was delivered under an 
improvised canopy, before an audience of fifty thousand persons.] 

" Wisdom conducted the just man through the right ways, and showed him the 
kingdom of God, made him honorable in his labors, and accomplished his works. She 
kept him safe from his enemies, and gave him a strong conflict, that he might over- 
come ; and in bondage she left him not till she brought him the sceptre of the king- 
dom, and power against those that oppressed him, and gave him everlasting glory." — 
Wisdom X. 

HESE striking words of the inspired writer tell us the 
glorious history of a great man of old, the father and 
founder of a great people. They also point out the 
true source of his greatness, and the secret of his suc- 
cess. He was a just man, and the spirit of wisdom was upon 
him. He was led by this spirit through the right ways — 
that is to say, the ways of truth and justice, the straight- 
forward paths of reason and obedience ; and the ends of his 
ways, the object ever before his eyes, was " the kingdom of God," 
the independence, the glory, the spiritual freedom of the chil- 
dren of his race. A high and holy object was this, a grand and 
a noble purpose, which wisdom held out to him as the aim of 
his life and the crown of his days. And as the end for which a 
man labors determines all things, either unto shame or unto 
glory, so he, who labored for so great an end, " the kingdom of 
God," was made honorable in his labors ; " and the source of 
this honor was also the secret of success, for he ''accomplished 
his works." But in the midst of these " honorable labors " the 
inspired writer tells that the just man's path was beset by 
enemies, but the spirit of wisdom which guided him " kept him 




0' Coiincll. 



35 



safe from his enemies," enabled him to meet their violence and 
their wiles, their open hatred and their subtle cunning, to over- 
come them, and to baffle them. The contest was long ; it was 
"a strong conflict," which was given to him only that he might 
overcome, and so be worthy to be crowned. He was made to 
taste of sorrow ; his enemies seemed to prevail ; but in bands 
the spirit of wisdom, truth, and justice forsook him not, ''till 
she brought him the sceptre of the kingdom," the love and ven- 
eration of his brethren and of his people, ''and power against 
those that oppressed him," the power of principle and of justice, 
and so changed his sorrow into joy, " and gave him everlasting 
glory " — glory on the earth, in the history and traditions of his 
people, where his name was in honor and benediction, and his 
memory enshrined in their love, and the higher glory, the ever- 
lasting glory " of the kingdom of God," for which he had labored 
so honorably, so successfully, and so long. Now, all this honor, 
triumph, and everlasting glory came to the great Israelite 
through the spirit of wisdom, the same spirit of which it is writ- 
ten elsewhere, " that it can do all things, . . . that it reneweth 
all things, . . . and through nations conveyeth itself into holy 
souls, and maketh the friends of God and the prophets " — " the 
friends of God," that is to say, the defenders of His Church 
and of His faith ; and " prophets," that is, the leaders of His 
people. 

The destinies of nations are in the hands of God, and when 
the hour of His mercy comes, and a nation is to regain the first 
of its rights, the free exercise of its faith and religion, God, 
who is never wanting to His own designs, ever provides for 
that hour a leader for His people, such a one as my text de- 
scribes — wdse, high-minded, seeking the kingdom of God, hon- 
orable in his labors, strong in conflict v\-ith his enemies, tri 
umphant in the issue, and crowned vv'ith glory. Nor v\-as Ireland 
forgotten in the designs of God. Centuries of patient endur- 
ance brought at length the dawn of a better day. God's hour 
came, and it brought with it Ireland's greatest son, Daniel 
O'Connell. We surround his grave to-day, to pay him a last 
tribute of love, to speak words of praise, of suft'rage, and of 
prayer. For two and twenty years has he silently slept in the 
midst of us. His generation is passing a\<'ay, and the light of 
history already dawns upon his grave, and she speaks his name 



36 



Connell. 



with cold, unimpassioned voice. In this age of ours a few years 
are as a century of times gone by. Great changes and startHng 
events follow each other in such quick succession that the 
greatest names are forgotten almost as soon as those who bore 
them disappear, and the world itself is surprised to find how 
short-lived is the fame which promised to be immortal. He 
who is inscribed even in the golden book of the world's annals 
finds that he has but written his name upon water. The 
Church alone is the true shrine of immortality, the temple of 
fame which perisheth not ; and that man only whose name and 
memory is preserved in her sanctuaries receives on this earth a 
reflection of that glory which is eternal in heaven. But before 
the Church will crown any one of her children, she carefully 
examines his claims to the immortality of her gratitude and 
praise — she asks. What has he done for God and for man ? 
This great question am I come here to answer to-day for him 
Avhose tongue, once so eloquent, is now stilled in the silence of 
the grave, and over whose tomb a grateful country has raised a 
monument of its ancient faith and a record of its past glories ; 
and I claim for him the meed of our gratitude and love, in that 
he was a man of faith, whom wisdom guided in the right 
ways," who loved and sought " the kingdom of God," who 
w^as most " honorable in his labors," and who accomplished his 
"great works;" the liberator of his race, the father of his 
people, the conqueror in " the undefiled conflict " of principle, 
truth, and justice. No man of our day denies that Ireland has 
been a most afflicted country ; but seldom was her dark hour 
darker, or her affliction greater, than towards the close of the 
last century. The nation's heart seemed broken, and all her 
hopes extinguished. The Catholics of Ireland were barely 
allowed to live, and were expected to be grateful even for the 
boon of existence ; but the profession of the Catholic faith was 
a complete bar and an insurmountable obstacle to all advance- 
ment in the path of worldly advantage, honor, dignity, and 
even wealth. The fetters of conscience hung heavily also upon 
genius, and every prize to which lawful ambition might aspire 
w^as beyond the reach of those who refused to deny the religion 
of their fathers, and to forget their country. Amongst the 
victims of this religious and intellectual slavery was one who 
was marked amongst the youth of his time. Of birth which 



O' Comiell. 



37 



in other lands would be called noble, gifted with a powerful and 
comprehensive intelligence, a prodigious memory, a most fertile 
imagination, pouring forth its images in a vein of richest oratory, 
a generous spirit, a most tender heart, enriched with stores of 
varied learning, and genius of the highest kind, graced with 
every form of manly beauty, strength, and vigor, of powerful 
frame — nothing seemed wanting to him — 

** A combination and a form indeed 
Where every god did seem to set his seal, 
To give the world assurance of a man " — 

yet all seemed to be lost in him, for he was born a Catholic and 
an Irishman. Before him now stretched, full and broad, the 
two ways of life, and he must choose between them : the way 
which led to all that the Avorld prized — wealth, power, distinc- 
tion, title, glory, and fame ; the way of genius, the noble rivalry 
of intellect, the association with all that was most refined and 
refining — the way which led up to the council chambers of the 
nation, to all places of jurisdiction and of honor, to the 
temples wherein Avere enshrined historic names and glorious 
memories, to a share in all blessings of privilege and freedom. 
The stirrings of genius, the promptings of youthful ambition, 
the consciousness of vast intellectual power, which placed 
within his easy grasp the highest prizes to which '''' the last 
infirmity of noble minds " could aspire — all this impelled him 
to enter upon the bright and golden path. But before him 
opened another way. No gleam of sunshine illumined this 
way ; it was Avet with tears — it was overshadowed by misfor- 
tune — it zvas pointed out to the young traveller of life by the 
sign of the eross, and he who entered it was bidden to leave all 
hope behind him, for it led through the valley of humiliation 
into the heart of a fallen race and an enslaved and afflicted 
people. I claim for O'Connell the glory of having chosen the 
latter path, and this claim no man can gainsay, for it is the 
argument of the apostle in favor of the great lawgiver of old — 
By faith Closes denied himself to be the son of Pharaoh's 
daughter ; rather choosing to be afflicted with the people of 
God than to have the pleasure of sin for a time — esteeming the 
reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasure of the 
Egyptians." Into this way was he led by his love for his 
religion and for his country. He firmly believed in that 



38 



O' Council. 



religion in -which he was born. He had that faith which is 
common to all Catholics, and which is not merely a strong 
opinion or even a conviction, but an absolute and most 
certain knowledge that the Catholic Church is the one and 
only true messenger and witness of God upon the earth ; that 
to belong to her communion and to possess her faith is the first 
and greatest of all endowments and privileges, before which 
everything else sinks into absolute nothing. He believed and 
knew that it was not enough for him to believe in his heart 
unto justice," but that he must confess with his mouth unto 
salvation," and the strength of his faith left him no alternative 
but to proclaim loudly his religion, and to cast in his lot with 
his people. That religion was this people's only inheritance. 
They had clung to it and preserved it with a love and fidelity 
altogether superhuman, and which was the wonder of the 
Avorld. The teaching of the Catholic Church was accepted 
cheerfully by the Irish people when it was first preached to 
them. They took it kindly and at once from the lips of their 
apostle, and Ireland was a grand exception to all the nations, 
where the seed of Christianity has ever been the martyr's blood. 
The faith thus delivered to them they so illustrated by their 
sanctity that for a thousand years Catholic Ireland was the 
glor\^ of Christendom, and received amongst the nations the 
singular title of the " Island of Saints." 

Our national history begins with our faith, and is so inter- 
woven with our holy religion, that if you separate these, our 
country's name disappears from the world's annals ; whilst, on 
the other hand, Ireland Christian and Catholic, which means 
Ireland holy, Ireland evangelizing, Ireland teaching the nations 
of Europe, Ireland upholding in every land the Cross and the 
crown, Ireland suffering for her faith as people never suffered, 
has her name written in letters of gold upon the proudest page 
of history. Ireland and her religion were so singularly bound 
together, that in days of prosperity and peace they shone 
together ; in days of sorroAv and shame they sustained one 
another. When the ancient religion was driven from her 
sanctuaries, she still found a temple in every cabin in the 
land, an altar and a home in the heart of every Irishman. 
When the war of conquest degenerated into a war of exter- 
mination, the faith, and the faith alone, became to the Irish 



O' Council. 



39 



race the principle of their vitality and national existence, the 
only element of freedom and of hope. To their Church, suffer- 
ing and proscribed, they remained faithful as in the days of her 
glory. Their Catholic religion became the strongest passion of 
their lives, and in their love for their great suffering mother 
they said to her : 

" Through grief and through danger thy smile hath cheer'd my way, 
Till hope seem'd to bud from each thorn that round me lay : 
The darker our fortune the brighter our pure love burn'd, 
Till shame into glory, till fear into zeal was turn'd ; 
Yes, slave as I was, in thy arms my spirit felt free, 
And blessed even the sorrows that made me more dear to thee." 

All this O'Connell felt and knew. He was Irish of the Irish, 
and Catholic of the Catholic. His love for religion and coun- 
try was as the breath of his nostrils, the blood of his veins ; 
and when he brought to the service of both the strength of his 
faith and the power of his genius, with the instinct of a true 
Irishman his first thought was to lift up the nation by striking 
the chains off the national Church. And heve again, my 
brethren, two ways opened before him. One was a way in 
which many had trodden in former times, many pure and high- 
minded, noble and patriotic men ; it was a way of danger and 
of blood, and the history of his country told him that it ever 
ended in defeat and in greater evil. The sad events which he 
himself witnessed, and which took place around him, warned 
him off that way ; for he saw that the effort to walk in it had 
swept away the last vestige of Ireland's national legislature and 
independence. But another path was still open to him, and 
wisdom pointed it out as " the right way." Another battle- 
field lay before him, on which he could " fight the good fight," 
and vindicate all the rights of his religion and of his country. 
The armory was furnished him by the inspired apostle when 
he said : " Brethren, our wrestling is not against flesh and 
blood, but against principalities and powers. . . . There- 
fore take unto you the armor of God. . . . Ha\'ing )'our 
loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of 
justice, and your feet shod with the preparation of the Gospel 
of Peace, in all things taking the shield of faith. . . . And 
take unto you the sword of the spirit, Avhich is the Word." 
O'Connell knew well that such weapons in such a hand as his 



40 



O'Connell. 



were irresistible — that, girt round with the truth and justice of 
his cause, he was clad in the armor of the Eternal God ; that, 
with words of peace and order on his lips, with the strong 
shield of faith before him and the sword of eloquent speech in 
his hand, with the war-cry of obedience, principle, and law, no 
power on earth could resist him. 

" Such a battle, once begun, 
Though baffled oft, is ever won " 

for it is the battle of God, and nothing can resist the Most 
High. Accordingly, he raised the standard of the new war, 
and unfurled the banner on which was written, freedom to be 
achieved by the power of truth, the cry of justice, the assertion 
of right, and the omnipotence of the law. Religious liberty 
and perfect legal equality w^as his first demand. The new apos- 
tle of freedom went through the length and breadth of Ireland. 
His eloquent words revived the hopes and stirred up the ener- 
gies of the nation ; the people and their priesthood rallied around 
him as one man ; they became most formidable to their enemies 
by the might of justice and reason, and they showed themselves 
worthy of liberty by their respect for the law. Never was Ire- 
land more excited, yet never was Ireland more peaceful. The 
people w^ere determined on gaining their religious freedom. Irish- 
men, from 1822 to 1829, were as fiercely determined, on their 
new battlefield, as they had been in the breaches of Limerick 
or on the slopes of Fontenoy. They were marshalled by a 
leader as brave as Sarsfield and as daring as Red Hugh. He 
led them against the strongest citadel in the world, and even as 
the v\'alls of the city of old crumbled to dust at the sound of 
Israel's trumpet, so, at the sound of his mighty voice, who spoke 
in the name of a united people, the lintels of the doors were 
moved," and the gates were opened which three hundred years 
of prejudice and pride had closed and barred against our people. 
The first decree of our liberation went forth : on the 1 3th of April, 
1829, Catholic Emancipation was proclaimed, and seven millions 
of Catholic Irishmen entered the nation's legislature in the per- 
son of O'Connell. It was the first and the greatest victor}^ of 
peaceful principle which our age has witnessed, the grandest 
triumph of justice and of truth, the most glorious victory of the 
genius of one man, and the first great act of homage which 



O' Conncll. 



41 



Ireland's rulers paid to the religion of the people, and which Ire- 
land's people paid to the great principle of peaceful agitation. 

O'Connell's first and greatest triumph was the result of his 
strong faith and his ardent zeal for his religion and his Church. 
The Church was to him, as it is to us, ''the kingdom of God," 
and in his labors for it, '' he was made honorable," and received 
from a grateful people the grandest title ever given to man. 
Ireland called him '' the Liberator." He was '' honorable in his 
labors," when we consider the end which he proposed to him- 
self. It was no selfish nor even purely human end w^hich he put 
before him. He devoted himself, his time, his talents, his ener- 
gies, his power, to the glory of God, to the liberation of God's 
Church, to the emancipation of his people. This was the glori- 
ous end ; nor Avere the means less honorable. Fair, open, 
manly self-assertion ; high solemn appeal to eternal principles ; 
noble and unceasing proclamation of rights founded in justice 
and in the constitution ; peaceful but most powerful pressure of 
a people united by his genius, inflamed by his eloquence, and 
guided by his vast knowledge and wisdom — these were the 
honorable means by which he accomplished his great work, and 
this great work w'as the achievement which gained for him not 
only the title of the Liberator of Ireland, but even the oecumeni- 
cal title of the Liberator of Christ's Church. *' Were it only to 
Ireland," says the great Lacordaire, " that Emancipation has 
been profitable, where is the man in the Church who has freed 
at once seven millions of souls? Challenge your recollection, 
search history from that first and famous edict wdiich granted 
to the Christians liberty of conscience, and see if there are to 
be found many such acts, comparable by the extent of their 
effects with that of Catholic Emancipation. Seven miUions of 
souls are now free to serve and love God even to the end of 
time ; and each time that this people, advancing in their existence 
and their liberty, shall recall to memory the aspect of the man 
who studied the secret of their ways, they w^ill ever find inscribed 
the name of O'Connell, both on the latest pages of their servi- 
tude and on the first of their regeneration." His glorious vic- 
tory did honor even to those whom he vanquished. He honored 
them by appealing to their sense of justice and of right ; and 
in the act of Catholic Emancipation, England acknowledged 
the power of a people, not asking for mercy, but clamoring for 



42 aConnell. 

the liberty of the soul, the blessing which was born Avith Christ, 
and which is the inheritance of the nations that embrace the 
Cross. Catholic Emancipation was but the herald and the begin- 
ning of victories. He who was the Church's liberator and most 
true son, was also the first of Ireland's statesmen and patriots. 
Our people rememberwell, as their future historian will faithfully 
record, the many trials borne for them, the many victories gained 
in their cause, the great life devoted to them by O'Connell. 
Lying, however, at the foot of the altar, as he is to-day, whilst 
the Church hallows his grave with prayer and sacrifice, it is 
more especially as the Catholic Emancipator of his people that 
we place a garland on his tomb. It is as a child of the Church 
that we honor him, and recall with tears of sorrow our recollec- 
tions of the aged man, revered, beloved, whom all the glory of the 
world's admiration and the nation's love had never lifted up in 
soul out of the holy atmosphere of Christian humility and sim- 
plicity. Obedience to the Church's laws, quick zeal for her 
honor and the dignity of her worship ; a spirit of penance, re- 
fining whilst it expiated, chastening whilst it ennobled, all that 
was natural in the man ; constant and frequent use of the 
Church's holy sacraments, which shed the halo of grace round 
his venerated head — these were the last grand lessons which he 
left to his people, and thus did the sun of his life set in the glory 
of Christian holiness. For Ireland he lived, for Ireland did he 
die. The people whom he had so faithfully served, whom he 
loved with a love second only to his love for God, were deci- 
mated by a visitation the most terrible that the world ever wit- 
nessed ; the nations of the earth trembled, and men grew pale 
at the sight of Ireland's desolation. Her tale of famine, of 
misery, of death, was told in every land. Her people fled 
affrighted from the soil which had forgotten its ancient bounty, 
or died, their white lips uttering the last faint cry for bread. 
All this the aged father of his country beheld. Neither his 
genius, nor his eloquence, nor his love, could now save his peo- 
ple, and the spirit was crushed which had borne him triumph- 
antly through all dangers and toil ; the heart broke within him, 
that brave and generous heart which had never known fear, and 
whose ruling passion was love for Ireland. The martyred spirit, 
the broken heart of the great Irishman led him to the holiest 
spot of earth, and v/ith tottering steps he turned to Rome. 



O' Council. 



43 



Tlie man whose terrible voice in life shook the highest tribunals 
of earth in imperious demand for justice to Ireland, now sought 
the apostles' tomb, that, from that threshold of heaven he 
might put up a cry for mercy to his country and his people, and 
offer up his life for his native land. Like the Prophet King, he 
would fain stand between the people and the angel who smote 
them, and offer himself a victim and holocaust for the land 
which he loved. But on the shores of the Mediterranean the 
weary traveller lay down to die. At that last moment, his pro- 
found knowledge of his country's history may have given him 
that prophetic glimpse of the future w4iich is sometimes vouch- 
safed to great minds. He had led a mighty nation to the 
opening of the right w^ay," and directed her first and doubtful 
steps in the path of conciliation and justice to Ireland. Time, 
w^iich ever works out the designs of God, has carried that 
nation forward in the glorious Avay. With firmer step, with 
undaunted soul, with high resolve of justice, peace, and con- 
ciliation, the w^ork begun by Ireland's Liberator progresses in 
our day. Chains are being forged for our country, but they are 
chains of gold, to bind up all discordant elements in the empire, 
so that all men shall dwell together as brothers in the land. If 
wx cannot have the blessings of religious unity so as to be all 
of one mind," we shall have the next dearest blessing that 
heaven can give," the peace that springs from perfect religious 
liberty and equality. All this do we owe to the man whose 
memory we recall to-day, to the principles which he taught us, 
which illustrate his life, and Avhich, in the triumph of Catholic 
Emancipation, pointed out to the Irish people the true secret 
of their strength, the true way of progress, and the sure road 
to victory. The seed which his hand had sown it was not given 
to him to reap in its fullness. Catholic Emancipation was but 
the first installment of liberty. The edifice of religious freedom 
w^as to be crowned when the wise architect who had laid its 
foundations and built up the walls was in his grave. Let us 
hope that his dying eyes were cheered and the burden of his 
last hour lightened by the sight of the perfect grandeur of his 
work — that, like the Prophet lawgiver, he beheld " all the land ;" 
— that he saw it with his e)'es, though he did not pass over 
to it ;" and that it was given to him to ^'salute from afar off" 
the brightness of the day which he Avas never to enjoy. The 



44 



O'ConnelL 



dream of his life is being realized to-day. He had ever sighed 
to be able to extend to his Protestant fellow-countrymen the 
hand of perfect friendship, which only exists where there is per- 
fect equality, and to enter with them into the compact of the 
true peace which is founded in justice. Time, which buries in 
utter oblivion so many names and so many memories, will ex- 
alt him in his work. The day has already dawned and is ripen- 
ing to its perfect noon when Irishmen of every creed will 
remember O'Connell, and celebrate him as the common friend 
and the greatest benefactor of their country. What man is there, 
even of those whom our age has called great, whose name, so 
many years after his death, could summon so many loving hearts 
around his tomb? We to-day are the representatives not only 
of a nation but of a race. Qiimiain regio in terris nostri non 
plcjia laboris? " Where is the land that has not seen the face 
of our people and heard their voice ? and wherever, even to 
the ends of the earth, an Irishman is found to-day, his spirit 
and his sympathy are here. The millions of America are with 
us — the Irish Catholic soldier on India's plains is present 
amongst us by the magic of love — the Irish sailor, standing by 
the wheel this moment in far-off silent seas, where it is night, 
and the southern stars are shining, joins his prayer with ours, 
and recalls the glorious image and the venerated name of 
O'Connell. 

" He is gone who seemed so great — 
Gone ; but nothing can bereave him 
Of the force he made his own 
Being here, and we believe him 
Something far advanced in state, 
And that he wears a truer crown 
Than any wreath that man can weave him." 

He is gone, but his fame shall live for ever on the earth as a 
lover of God and of his people. Adversaries, political and re- 
ligious, he had many, and like a 

" Tower of strength 
Which stood full square to all the winds that blew," 

the Hercules of justice and of liberty stood up against them. 
Time, which touches all things with mellowing hand, has soft- 
ened the recollections of past contests, and they who once 
looked upon him as a foe now only remember the glory of 



O' ConnelL 



45 



the fight, and the mighty genius of him who stood forth the 
representative man of his race, and the champion of his people. 
They acknowledge his greatness, and they join hands with us 
to weave the garland of his fame. But far other, higher, and 
holier are the feelings of Irish Catholics all the world over to- 
day. They recognize, in the dust which we are assembled to 
honor, the powerful arm which promoted them, the eloquent 
tongue which proclaimed their rights and asserted their freedom, 
the strong hand which, like that of the INIaccabee of old, first struck 
off their chains, and then built up their holy altars. They, 
mingling the supplication of prayer and the gratitude of suf- 
frage, with their tears, recall — oh, with how much love! — the 
memory of him who was a Joseph to Israel — their tower of 
strength, their buckler, and their shield — who shed around their 
homes, their altars, and their graves the sacred light of religious 
liberty, and the glory of unfettered worship. " His praise is 
in the Church," and this is the surest pledge of the immortality 
of his glory. " A people's voice" may be " the proof and echo 
of all human fame," but the voice of the undying Church is 
the echo of everlasting glory," and when those who surround 
his grave to-day shall have passed away, all future generations 
of Irishmen to the end of time will be reminded of his name 
and of his glory. 




[Preached in the Pro-Cathedral, Marlborough Street, Dublin, on Sunday, Septem- 
ber I2th, before His Eminence Cardinal Cullen'and a majority of the Episcopate of 
Ireland, on the occasion of the Solemn Triduum to offer thanks to God for the dis- 
establishment of the Anglican Church in Ireland.] 

The Gospel of this day, the seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost, is taken from 
Matthew xxii. 35-46. "At that time : The Pharisees came to Jesus ; ' and one of them 
a doctor of the law, asked Him, tempting Him : Master, which is the great com- 
mandment in the law ? Jesus said to him : Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with 
thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind. This is the 
greatest and the first commandment. And the second is like to this : Thou shalt 
love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments dependeth the whole 
law and the prophets. And the Pharisees being gathered together, Jesus asked them, 
saying; What think you of Christ, whose Son is He? They say to Him, David's. 
He saith to them : How then doth David in spirit call Him Lord, saying : The Lord 
said to my Lord, Sit on my right hand, until I make Thy enemies Thy footstool ? If 
David then call Him Lord, how is He his son? And no man was able to answer 
Him a word : neither durst any man from that day forth ask Him any more ques- 
tions.' " 

AY it please your Eminence, — Beloved brethren. In 
the important portion of the Gospel which I have just 
read for you we find Christ our Lord declaring the 
great truth, that His religion is a religion of love, its 
commandments and all its spirit resting upon two great duties 
of love — first to God, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with 
thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind ; " secondly, to your 
neighbor, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." We are 
assembled here to-day, my brethren, for a specific purpose, and 
that is, in all humility and gratitude, to give thanks to Almighty 
God at His own altar, in the oblation to Him of his Divine and 
Adorable Son, for the great benefit Avhich we have received, for 
the great blessing which has been conferred upon us as a nation, 
in the redress of a long-standing wrong. It may seem that this 
very assembling, — that this putting forth our voices in praise., is 




The Solemn Tricluinii. 



A7 



a violation of the Gospel of love which is upon our lips this day ; 
yet it is not so. Nay, more — it is out of our love of God and 
of our faith ; it is out of our love of our neighbor, not only of 
those who are in the household of the faith with us, but also of 
those who, separated from us by the disunion of religious belief, 
have not the same sacrifice, nor the same sacraments, nor the 
same doctrines as ours, yet are our neighbors — it is, I say, out 
of our love of God and of man that the Holy Church of Christ, 
speaking to us by the voice of our chief pastor here, assembles 
us this day for the purpose of offering our thanks to God. Our 
love of God necessarily obliges us to rejoice when we see the 
cause of God, the cause of religious truth, the cause of right and 
justice, proclaimed before all men; yet in our love of God we 
do not forget the great duties that are involved in the precept. 
Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." These duties are 
three — first, ardently to desire our neighbor's spiritual and tem- 
poral welfare ; secondly, to forgive freely, generously, nobly, all 
injuries we have received at our neighbor's hands ; thirdly, ten- 
derly to respect our neighbor's feelings, even as we would have 
our own feelings, nay, our own prejudices, respected and con- 
sidered. We do not violate the command of God in assembling 
before His altar to-day, for I claim for the Catholics of Ireland 
— during the last twelve months especially — this glor}% that 
never have a people shown themselves more generous, more 
tender, more respectful to the feelings of others than they have. 
A great question was brought before the Legislature of the 
kingdom — involving what certain members of the community 
considered to be their special rights and legitimate privileges, 
but what the vast, the overpowering miajority of the Irish peo- 
ple looked upon as a great evil, a great insult, and a great 
wrong. That question was agitated warmly, passionately ; it 
was viewed in all its relations, held up before the world in its 
past history, in its present influence, in its future consequences ; 
but the Catholics of Ireland viewed it not as a great political 
question, but rather as a great religious question. They knew 
that, far more than in all political questions, in religious ques- 
tions men's feelings are tender, men's prejudices are strong, and 
accordingly a most singular instance has been offered to the 
world by the Catholics of Ireland, of forbearance, of generosity, 
of calmness, that amounted almost to the apathy of which we 



48 



TJic Solemn Tridumn. 



were accused by those who disputed the great question before 
the nation. We stood aside. We seemed to be rather the un- 
concerned spectators than the people whose vital interests were 
at stake, and whose very existence for the future was to be 
decided. The Catholic bishops and clergy of Ireland spoke no 
word of threat — no word of violence. The Catholic people of 
Ireland were silent and respectful. No agitation shook the 
land — no menace was heard from them ; the great question went 
forward, disputed and argued upon its own merits, and whilst 
ever}^ Irish Catholic heart beat with anxiety, whilst united 
praj^ers went up before the altar of God from every Catholic 
household in the land, whilst the people were stirred even to 
their very hearts' core, yet they subdued their excitement, they 
suppressed the violence of their emotions, they were silent ; and 
their only motive for this extraordinary calmness and silence 
was their respect for the convictions, the prejudices, and, above 
all, the feelings of their Protestant fellow-countrymen. When 
judged solely upon its merits, its past history, its present rela- 
tions, its future consequences upon society in Ireland, the alien 
church was condemned ; and it was decreed, in the spirit that 
animated Magna Charta of old, still permeating all that is glori- 
ous in the constitution of Britain, that all men should be equal 
in the land. When this greatest of victories over injustice and 
wrong was achieved, there was heard no voice of triumph or of 
exultation, — no insulting vaunt over the conquered, — no loud 
boast that henceforth the Catholics of Ireland should have it all 
their own way. Oh, no, not a word. Our people were silent — 
silent in their gratitude. The silence of excited and anxious 
hopes passed into Christian calmness of hopes fulfilled. Hence, 
if any voice of insult, if any voice of threat has been heard in 
Ireland during the contest and in the moment of victory, I assert 
that that voice of insult and threat has not come from Catholic 
bishop, priest, or layman — that it has not come from any organ 
of Catholic opinion. I repeat, whenever the voice of excite- 
ment, of insult, of threat, of violence, was heard, it came not 
from us. We were silent in the hour which Ave might, perhaps, 
be tempted to call an hour of national triumph for Catholic 
Ireland, — we were silent out of respect for the feelings of our 
Protestant fellow-countrymen, — giving them credit for all con- 
sistency and all earnestness in their opposition to us, — giving 



TJie Solemn Triduiini. 



49 



credit to Protestantism for its spirit of justice and fair-play, as 
it is called, — recognizing with gratitude the advocacy of those 
of that creed who lent a hand to wipe out a great and long- 
standing wrong, and apparently forgetful of the mighty fact that 
it was Ireland's faith — that it was Ireland's patience — that it 
was Ireland's fortitude, planted in the hearts of the people by 
the grace of Almighty God, that achieved this wonderful asser- 
tion of the people's right— to perfect equality and freedom in 
the land in which God created them, and which He willed 
should be theirs. As it was, during the twelve months of sus- 
pense, — as it was, when the great act of redress was proclaimed 
to be the law of the land, so it is to-day ; for, indeed, it would 
be strange if those who were so temperate, so calm, so respect- 
ful outside should come before the altar of God to speak words 
of vain boasting or of triumph over their fellow-men. No, we 
are far more grateful to God than jubilant of ourselves ; and no 
man can say, reading the future history of Ireland, that in the 
tremendous crisis through which we have passed our people • 
ever lost the calmness, the tenderness, the generosity of the 
Christian charity which should animate every man in his rela- 
tions with his neighbor. Before I leave this point, let me re- 
mind you that we are not a phlegmatic race, that we are not 
accustomed to conceal our feelings. The Irish heart is suscepti- 
ble, the Irish temperament is sanguine, even demonstrative. 
We are a people who have never been silent or contented under 
a great wrong, or under a great sorrow. We are a people not 
prone to suppress our emotions in the moment of national grief 
or joy. Therefore, the influence that was at work to restrain 
the exuberance of the national joy, that was able to keep an 
excited and excitable people calm during a period when strong 
emotion throbbed through every pulse in the land, must have 
been a powerful influence ; the principle and motive must have 
been great, — and they were no other, I say again, than respect 
and tenderness and generosity, springing from true Christian 
charity and love of our neighbor. In the same spirit we assem- 
ble here to-day to extend our s}'mpathy and our respect to all 
in the land, — to offer to all the tribute which charity obliges a 
man to give to his neighbor — for our love for our neighbor 
obliges us, not only to respect his feelings, not only not to hurt 
them, and even to be generous to his prejudices, but it also 

4 



50 



The Solerim Tridimm. 



obliges us to forgive nobly and generously whatever injuries we 
may have received at his hands. Such is the spirit of the 
Christian religion. Revenge, — deep-seated, thoughtful revenge, 
— revenge brooding over a wrong that has been committed, and 
waiting only for the proper moment to avenge that wrong — 
this is not the spirit of Christ, nor of the spouse of Christ, the 
Holy Catholic Church. She, during the two thousand years of 
her history upon earth, has received little else than injury and 
insult at the hands of the world. Her whole history may be 
said to be of slights, wrongs, injuries, and insults, received and 
nobly forgiven by the holy Church of God. She is constantly 
going forth to seek the souls and secure the salvation even of 
her most ungrateful children and bitterest enemies. She knows 
no spirit of revenge. If the man who was her greatest enemy 
during his life — who had robbed her of all she had in this world, 
and robbed her, still more, of the souls of her children — if that 
man turns to her in the hour of death, and stretches out his 
hand to her for succor, she, forgetting ail his insults, all his 
injuries, hastens to his side, and strives to save his soul and 
secure him for heaven and the joys of God. So we are come 
here to-day to give thanks for the great benefit we have received, 
w^hich will result in this, that we can extend to our Protestant 
fellow-citizens and fellow-countrymen the hand of friendship 
and of brotherly love. For three hundred years ascendency in 
religion has been the curse and the division of this country of 
ours ; ascendency in religion, by which a small minority of the 
people — scarcely one-tenth of them — holding all the religious 
endowments of the country, holding all the political power of 
the country, holding the keys of the Legislature, demanded to 
be recognized as the church of the country ; and nine-tenths of 
the people — the vast majority of the nation — were excluded from 
all recognition, from all consideration in the laws, from all the 
possessions and endowments granted for religious purposes — 
excluded from place and power, excluded from a thousand pre- 
rogatives and privileges ; and who can wonder that this proud, 
massive ascendency, pressing thus on the great body of the 
people, should create a spirit of bitterness, of alienation, of con- 
tempt on part of the privileged few, and of a strong temptation 
to indignation and rage on part of the thousands, the millions, 
thus excluded and despised, — a spirit that found its way into 



The Solemn Triduuin. 



51 



every relation of life, — and, above all, a spirit which was a per- 
fect obstacle to that Christian friendship, to tliat social union, 
to that equality which is the next greatest blessing when the 
grace of religious unity is not there. Friendship exists only 
between equals — a man does not make a friend of his servant or 
of his slave. All the value of friendship, all the value of the 
union that springs from it, depends on the equality of the two 
men who join hands for some common purpose, and who have 
a mutual sympathy — the tribute of one man to the other. 
Therefore, so long as the baneful ascendency, now happily 
swept away, existed in this land, there could not be betw^een 
the Catholic and the Protestant equality of friendship ; for the 
Protestant was legally, civilly, socially, in almost every relation, 
superior to his Catholic fellow-countryman. The consequence 
w^as a spirit of disunion pervading everywhere in social life, and 
unfortunately too in the public councils, with most evil influ- 
ence on the destinies of the country which w^as the common 
mother of all, Catholic and Protestant alike. To-day this long- 
maintained ascendency has been swept away ; and to-day, while 
we offer our thanks to God that this fatal source of disunion, 
this curse on our land, has disappeared, we at the same time 
offer to our Protestant fellow-citizens the sacred tribute which 
our love of our neighbor obliges us to give — namely, a true, a 
noble, a generous, a forgetful forgiveness of the past. But, 
perhaps, men may say. What have we to forgive ? During the 
time the question of the dis-establishment and dis-endowment 
of the Protestant Church was before the Parliament, if we con- 
sulted the Protestant press of the country, we might be inclined 
to think that all the injury was inflicted by us on them, and 
consequently that it is they who have to forgive, not the Cath- 
olics. Let us go back, if we have to answer the question. What 
have we to forgive ? What have the Catholics of Ireland to 
forgive ? We shall have to turn back page after page of a blood- 
stained history of wrong and of crime for three hundred years, 
— we shall have to recall these sad annals to which history pro- 
duces no equal, — we shall have to turn back on that history, 
written in the tears and in the blood of our afflicted and down- 
trodden people, who have suffered more Avrong, who have en- 
dured more injury than any people of whom history bears its 
record since the creation of the world. What have we to for- 



52 



TJic Solemn Tridtiuin. 



give ? Three hundred years ago the Irish people were united in 
faith as one man — the Irish people, out of whose faith and love 
came the splendor of that holy religion which was as dear to 
them as their life — out of whose faith and love came the noble 
cathedrals and colleges, and monasteries and churches which 
covered the land, and made Ireland, even in the hour of her 
national fall, the glory of Christendom, the land of saints, Cath- 
olic amongst all the Catholic. This was the state of the land 
three hundred years ago. Chieftains and people alike were Cath- 
olic to their hearts' core. The daily ]\Iass, the sacrifice, the sacra- 
ments of the Catholic Church, were the very spiritual life of 
Ireland, and in every clime the voice of the Irish missionar}' 
was heard perpetuating the glorious faith of Jesus Christ, so 
cherished by their nation and countr}-men at home. Thus was 
Ireland, Avith her Church full of faith and zeal, endowed and 
splendidly gifted, when suddenly she is called upon, by a power 
humanly far superior to her own, to perform an act of religious 
apostasy, to forswear and abandon the faith which for twelve 
hundred years had been engrained into the ver\' blood of her 
children. The Irish people were called upon to pull down the 
image of Jesus Christ from its place — to tear open the taber- 
nacle, and take out the Son of God and trample him under their 
feet ; they were called on to put away every symbol that told 
the world of their Christianity; they were called upon to give 
up the Holy Sacraments of the Church, so that the young man 
or the young maiden could no longer kneel to receive the pardon 
of Jesus Christ in the confessional — the aged man, dying, no 
longer should have the holy oils of the Church to strengthen 
him in his last hour — that the Irish grave no longer should be 
hallowed by the shadow of the Cross, nor consecrated by the 
prayers of a faithful and loving people. All these were the 
Irish people called upon to give up, and with sacrilegious hands 
to pull down the glorious temples which our fathers and our 
saints had built up in the land of their ancestors. Ireland 
solemnly refused. The people, represented by their bishops and 
their clergy — speaking b}' the voice of their chieftains — stand- 
ing as one man, cemented and united together by the glorious 
bond of unity of belief, declared that they would rather die 
than surrender one doctrine of their holy religion, or give up 
one essential practice of the faith of their fathers. Then did 



The Solemn Triduum. 



53 



the world behold the strange and terrible sight of one nation, 
powerful — even then, perhaps, the most powerful nation in the 
world — sitting in council, and deliberately weighing Ireland's 
fate in the balance — and the conclusion, deliberate and calm, of 
that mighty nation under whose bondage we had fallen was, 
that Ireland should renounce the Catholic faith or the Irish 
people be exterminated. Think not for a moment that I am 
giving way to excitement of thought or imagination, or in- 
dulging in a mere rhetorical exaggeration. I assert and will 
prove that the calm, quiet, well-considered determination at 
which England arrived three hundred years ago was either 
to make us Protestants or to destroy us utterly, and that the 
world beheld the strange spectacle of a whole nation gird- 
ing up its loins and standing to be martyred for the faith that 
w^as in them. This was the spirit that animated the viceroys 
and rulers of the land from the days of Elizabeth, when the 
English armies came over to Ireland, and this the spirit that 
animated the great northern chieftains as they rose up in arms 
for the national faith. England's army, no longer Catholic, 
overspread the land ; laws were made which were deliberately 
directed either to the destruction of Ireland's faith or the exter- 
mination of her people. To be a priest was death — to celebrate 
Mass was death — to shelter a priest was ruin and exile — to make 
provision for the Catholic faith was to surrender all worldly 
goods, and go forth houseless and beggared — to be found assist- 
ing at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass was confiscation and exile. 
Then did Ireland behold her faithful bishops and clergy driven 
from their cathedrals, and their churches, and their colleges — 
her priests hunted over the land like wild beasts, and a price 
set on their heads — all the externals of her holy religion utterly 
abolished — no symbol of her Christianity permitted in the land ; 
and then did Elizabeth and her English Protestant legislature 
calmly and coolly undertake the gigantic warfare in which she 
failed — a warfare by which either Ireland should be Protestant- 
ized or the Irish people destroyed. We resisted. Eveiy hamlet 
in the land, almost every family, had its martyrs — and you ask 
us what we have to forgive? Ask the martyred dead. The 
first wave of religious persecution swept over the land in 155^, 
under Elizabeth. In the October of 1585, Richard Creagh, 
Archbishop of Armagh, was poisoned in the Tovrer of London, 



54 



TJlc Solemn Triditum. 



after great and prolonged sufferings, nobly endured for the 
Catholic faith. In the preceding year, Dublin witnessed a fear- 
ful sight. Dermod O'Hurly, Archbishop of Cashel, who was 
arrested at Carrick-on-Suir, was brought into the city a prisoner, 
in September, 1 583, and kept bound there in chains in a dark 
and loathsome prison, up to Holy Thursday of the following 
year. He was offered a free pardon and promotion in the 
Church if he denied the spiritual power of the pope, and 
acknowledged the queen's supremacy. He had resolved, he 
said, never to abandon, for any temporal reward, the Catho- 
lic Church, the Vicar of Christ, and the true faith. The hol}^ 
prelate was then bound to the trunk of a large tree with his 
hands and feet chained, and his legs forced into log boots reach- 
ing up to the knees. The boots were filled with salt butter, oil, 
hemp, and pitch, and the martyr's body stretched on an iron 
grate over a fire, and cruelly tortured for more than an hour. The 
pitch, oil, and other materials boiled over; the skin was torn off 
the feet, and even large pieces of flesh, so as to leave the bones 
quite bare. The muscles and veins contracted ; and when the 
boots were pulled off, no one could bear to look at the mangled 
body. He Avas then carried back to the same dark and noisome 
dungeon, to make him suffer still greater torments, if such could 
be devised. Finally, he was sentenced to be dragged to the 
place of execution, there to be hanged, his head cut off, his 
body quartered, and the quarters hung up on the four gates 
of the city. The holy martyr was accordingly executed in 
Stephen's Green, on Friday, the 6th of May, 1584." A few 
years later, the faithful citizens of Dublin beheld the heroic 
Bishop of Down and Connor, Cornelius O'Dovany, led through 
their streets to the same place of execution. For three years 
had he lain in the dungeons of Dublin Castle and suffered the 
horrors of starvation. At length came the sentence that " Cor- 
nelius Dovany, Bishop of Down and Connor, should be taken 
back to prison, and then drawn in a cart to the place of execu- 
tion, there hanged on the gallows and cut down whilst alive, 
embowelled, his heart and bowels burned, his head cut off, and 
his body divided into four parts." When he was led to execu- 



* See Rothe, " A. Brodin," p. 448 : Stanihurst and Mooney ; O'Sullivan, " Hist. 
Cath. Mgr. Moran.," p. 132 ; O'Reilly, " ^lemorials," who also gives the State papers 
attesting and proving these acts of cruelty. 



TJlc Solemn Triduum. 



55 



tion, the people poured out in a dense crowd from every door 
into the streets, and in the sight of the councillors, and to the 
indignation of the viceroy, fell on their knees and begged his 
Pontifical blessing as he passed. The moment the bishop 
mounted the first step of the ladder and his head was seen 
above the crowd, a great shout of groans burst from all the 
spectators. Thus were our archbishops and bishops slaughtered 
in the midst of a heart-broken people, and we are asked. What 
have we to forgive ? 

The hand of persecution spared not the priests and religious, 
but fell upon them as heavily as on the prelates of the Church. 
The annals of Elizabeth's reign teem with the records of their 
sufferings ; and, as Peter Talbot, the learned Archbishop of 
Dublin, observes, They are written in bloody characters ; they 
are deeply stained with the innocent and noble blood of many 
learned and loyal subjects, only because they would not abjure 
the faith of their Christian ancestors." " It exceeds all belief," 
says another historian of the time, O'Mahony, " to what per- 
secutions our Irish Catholics were subjected ; many of our 
bishops suffered death, and all of them were obliged to seek 
their safety in concealment or flight ; very many priests, both 
secular and religious, and innumerable individuals of both sexes, 
as well nobles as plebeians, were also put to death — to say 
nothing of confiscation of property, exile, imprisonment, and 
other like evils — all of which our country suffered, as is known 
to heaven, and as I myself have partly witnessed." To take one 
of numberless instances of our sufferings at this time. About 
the year 1580, a band of English Protestant soldiers entered 
the monastery church of St. Mary of Maggio, in the diocese 
of Limerick, whilst the Cistercian monks were at prayer in the 
choir. " Like hungry wolves," says the historian, " they flung 
themselves on the defenceless religious ; in a few moments fort}' 
glorious names were added to the long list of Ireland's martyrs, 
and the sanctuary flowed with their blood." 

Years passed away, and Ireland undergoes again a persecu- 
tion from England that gathered strength and consistenc}' from 
intense religious hatred. The sect of the Puritans — the most 
violent of all the forms in which Protestantism has shown itself 
— arose and gained strength in England ; and it was represented 
by a great and powerful man, who succeeded in taking the reins 



56 



TJie Solemn Triduum. 



of government into his hands. This spirit of Puritanism looked 
with eyes of more than human hatred upon the spectacle of 
Irish fidelity ; and seeing that all the penal laws, all the terrors 
of Elizabeth and Edward VI. were not equal to the destruction 
of the Irish clergy and the Irish faith, Cromwell came over to 
this country, at the head of a great army, to effect that in which 
his predecessors had failed — namely, either to destroy the religion 
of the Irish people or destroy the Irish people themselves. 
Now, I assert that Cromwell's whole determination was to 
utterly and entirely exterminate the Irish race ; and I will call 
up in evidence one of the greatest enemies of Ireland, yet one 
of the greatest writers of the day — I mean the English states- 
man and historian, Macaulay. Macaulay, speaking of Cromwell 
and of his coming to Ireland, says — He had vanquished them 
(the Irish people) ; he knew that they were in his power ; and 
he regarded them as a band of malefactors and idolators, who 
Avere mercifully treated if they were not smitten with the edge 
of the sword. His administration in Ireland was an administra- 
tion on what are now called Orange principles, followed out 
most ably, most steadily, most undauntedly, most unrelentingly, 
to every extreme consequence to which those principles lead, 
and it would, if continued, inevitably have produced the effect 
Vv'hich he contemplated — an entire decomposition and recon- 
struction of society. He had a great and definite object in view, 
to make Ireland thoroughly English — to make Ireland another 
Yorkshire or Norfolk." And he adds, The native race were 
driven back before the advancing van of Anglo-Saxon popula- 
tion, as the American Indians or the tribes of Southern Africa 
are now driven back before the white settlers. Those fearful 
phenomena which have almost invariably attended the planting 
of civilized colonies in uncivilized countries, and which had been 
known to the nations of Europe only by distant and question- 
able rumor, were now publicly exhibited in their sight. The 
words, ' extirpation,' ' eradication,' were often in the mouths of 
the English back-settlers of Leinster and Munster — cruel words, 
yet in their cruelty containing more mercy than much softer 
expressions which have since been sanctioned by universities 
and cheered by parliaments ; for it is in truth more merciful to 
extirpate a hundred thousand human beings at once, and to fill 
the void with a well-governed population, than to misgovern 



The Solemn Triduum, 



57 



millions through a long succession of generations." Again, 
speaking of a distinguished Englishman who had settled in Ire- 
land, Macaulay says, " He troubled himself as little about the 
welfare of the remains of the old Celtic population as an Eng- 
lish farmer on the Swan River troubles himself about the New 
Hollanders, or a Dutch boor at the Cape about the Caffres." 
The determination, therefore, was to sweep away the Irish 
clergy and utterly exterminate the Irish people. They failed ; 
but they ask us what we have to forgive ? What have we to 
forgive ? I, standing here, appearing in this habit, which may 
recall the traditions and recollections of nearly seven hundred 
years, of an order united in interest, and bound together with 
the Irish people — what have I to forgive ? In the year 1650 
there were six hundred Dominicans in Ireland. In the year 
1660, nearly ten years later, out of the six hundred how many 
were left ? — one hundred and fifty ; and four hundred and fifty 
priests were either massacred, burned, or taken, put into the 
slave-ship, and sent to Barbadoes and Jamaica, where they died, 
after working in the sugar-plantations as slaves — working out 
their unhappy lives under the lash of the slave-driver ; and 
they were the best, the most devoted, the noblest of Irishmen. 

In this fatal interval, whilst the whole island streamed with 
Catholic blood, we read, amongst many others, of a certain 
Dominican — Father Richard Barry — who was publicly burned 
on the Rock of Cashel, in the midst of a horror-stricken and 
most afflicted people. 

A few years later the troubled wave of conquest, swollen 
with the same religious hatred, swept over Ireland. Cities, of 
treaties violatt;d, opened their gates to the invaders, and had the 
stones of their streets wetted with the best blood of their women 
and their children. Penal laws were again enacted and re- 
enacted, making it death to preach or to administer the sacra- 
ments to Catholics ; and these laws did their work. Catholic 
priests filled all the prisons of Ireland, and you ask us what we 
have to forgive ? Yet more than this. It was not only war 
against one faith, but it was war against everything that could 
sustain that faith. Two things were regarded as great sustain- 
ing powers of Catholic faith in Ireland, namely — the wealth of 
the people, and the education of the people. The help — the 
assistance of wealth — was cut off. The noble families of the 



58 



TJie Solemn Triduum, 



land were driven forth beggars into exile, deprived of all their 
land and of all their property, for their religion. The whole 
province of Ulster was " planted," as it is called, by colonists 
from the north of England and from Scotland, who brought 
their Protestantism with them, and the original holders of the 
soil, because they were Catholics, were driven back farther into 
the island. Cromwell gave orders that the Irish Catholics 
should depart from their homes, and a few barren mountains in 
Connaught, overlooking the Western Sea, were assigned to them 
as their only hold on the land. They were to choose between 
hell," through a cruel death, or exile in the distant and barren 
tracts of the West. Thus were the whole people driven forth 
from the land which was theirs ; thus was a great and monstrous 
wrong inflicted, not upon one, or upon two, or upon a thousand, 
but upon the whole nation ; and the people, unable to resist, 
gave up all rather than the faith which the Almighty God had 
given them. The second great sustaining power of our faith 
was education. Our people, from the beginning, w^ere lovers of 
knowledge — they cultivated knowledge. Irish teachers were to 
be found in every university in Europe. The greatest doctor 
of the Church, St. Thomas Aquinas, had for his teacher in that 
philosophy in which he excelled, an Irishman. When kings 
and emperors wanted to found great universities, they sent 
to Ireland for the first scholars of the age, and they got them ; 
and thus was knowledge, and the love of knowledge, spread by 
Irishmen all over the world. England saw that in Ireland 
flourished the strongest faith, side by side with the very highest 
intellectual culture ; and in order to destroy that faith, if possi- 
ble, by destroying education, she made it penal for a Catholic 
father to have his son instructed — thinking that by brutalizing 
the people by ignorance, she would reduce them to an accept- 
ance of her own errors. Ireland uneducated — Ireland shut out 
from the schools — Irish youth uninstructed betook themselves 
to the halls of learning, retaining their holy religion ; and be- 
cause that is an intellectual religion — an eminently intellectual 
religion — it kept the fire of intellectual knowledge and the sacred 
light of education still burning in the land in spite of all the 
penal laws — in spite of all the brute terrors brought to bear for 
its extinction. You have asked us what we have to forgive ? 
The Catholic Church to-day, after standing in her own blood, 



The Solemn Tridznim. 



59 



and pouring forth the best blood of her children for more than 
two hundred years, sees the chains fall from her noble and queenly 
figure ; and the Catholic Church to-day, forgetting all the evils 
that were inflicted upon her — ;forgetting all her injuries — turns 
with disdain from the offer of a portion of that which was once 
her own — from a portion of that which was confiscated from her 
three hundred years ago ; and to those who would endow her 
and enrich her with a portion of that which was once all her own, 
she says, For three hundred years I have lived in the land, 
and I have suffered with my people — for three hundred years 
the love of the Irish people has been a sufficient endowment for 
me — for me, who, having food and clothing, am content to labor 
and, if necessary, to die — for three hundred years I have found 
my endowment in the hearts of my people — I prize them more 
than all the wealth this world could lay at my feet ; and there- 
fore, I say, whatever portion of this church property might be 
mine I am willing to give up to the Irish people for their 
national purposes. I will cast my bread, as of old, upon the 
funning waters, and I will lean on the faith and generosity of 
Irish hearts for my existence in this land." And, my brethren, 
whilst she thus speaks to us, she turns to her enemies — she turns 
to those who for three hundred years have laid the scourge of 
persecution upon her — and says, I am willing to forget all, I am 
willing never to remind you, or remind my own people, of a sin- 
gle injury I have sustained ; I forgive you with all my heart and 
soul, and I only ask you to join hands with me and say. Let us 
be united in all the civil bonds of friendship and equality, for 
our own welfare and the good of our common country." This 
is the language which we hold to-day ; and if I took a review 
before you of our past wrongs, it is not to fling them into the 
faces of those who inflicted them. Oh, no ! It is to tell them 
that we exercise the virtue of forgiveness — of love of our neigh- 
bor. We have much to forgive — more than any people on the 
face of the world. We have much to forgive, and therefore our 
love which prompts us to forgive must be correspondingly great. 
We offer them the pledge of our friendship if they will accept it. 
Finally, my brethren, our love of our neighbor obliges us to 
ardently desire his spiritual and temporal welfare, and it is this 
also that brings us here to-day. I do not conceal that one great 
feeling ^rhic h fills the Catholic heart is the hope that the great 



6o 



The Solemn Tridmim. 



measure of redress which has just passed will prepare the way, 
and open the road, to obtain for Ireland again, at no distant day, 
the heavenly blessing of religious unity. It was for unity in 
faith that Christ our Lord prayed to His Father the evening 
before He suffered. It was for unity in faith that He offered 
His prayers for His apostles at the Last Supper. It was for 
unity of faith, and that men might be of one mind, that He es- 
tablished His Church upon earth, and set upon that Church the 
seal of infallibility of doctrine, that all men might know His 
word, and have confidence in accepting it from her lips. This 
unity was the blessing of Ireland for twelve hundred years : 
from the day she took Catholic truths from the teachings of her 
own apostle, down to the sad and terrible day when she was 
told that the Church was no longer one, and that she must dis- 
unite herself from Peter's Chair. We know, as Catholics, that 
the Holy Catholic Church is the one depository of divine truth, 
the one infallible witness to God's creed upon earth. \\'e know 
this. Our Protestant fellow-countrymen will not receive it. 
We respect their ver}' error, but we would not love them, we 
could not love them as our neighbors, we could not fulfill the 
Gospel in their regard, if we did not ardently and earnestly pray 
to Almighty God to open their eyes to this great truth, that it 
is necessary to be in body as well as in spirit members of the 
Catholic Church in order to be pleasing to God, and have that 
faith without which it is impossible to be saved. We hope that 
our aspirations for religious unity will be forwarded by the de- 
struction of the fatal ascendency which so long reigned amongst 
us. Therefore do we hail it out of the love we have for our Prot- 
estant fellow-citizens ; therefore do we hail it as the dawning 
of the day when once more this land will partake of the bless- 
ings of religious unity — when all Irishmen will come to kneel at 
the same altar — shall receive into faithful and loving hearts the 
same sacramental God, and be united as brothers in the land by 
every bond of love, not merely civic friendship, but in the higher 
national bond of union, which is identity of faith. We say that 
we hope this day is dawning, and we see the first stroke of its 
coming light on the horizon of our history in this great act of 
amelioration which is passed. We could not be loving man — 
we could not have either love of our neighbor, which is the 
mark of Christians, if we did not hail this blessing as the first 



The Solemn Triduuui. 



6i 



light of a coming glorious day — if wt did not cry out to God in 
thanksgiving for the past, "Oh, come, O Lord I come in the 
unity of faith — oh ! come in the strength of that love which 
triumphed in the sacrifice on the Cross ! — oh, come, and delay 
not I beam on all those who are in darkness or in the shadow 
of death ; fill them with the light of thy presence and of thy 
grace : beam on their intellects with the light of faith ; beam on 
their hearts with the ardor of divine love ; " that so, my brethren, 
we may all unite, bound together in faith, in hope, and in 
charity; and thus, seeking first that union which is the kingdom 
of God, all other things, all temporal blessings, all greatness, 
which might hereafter follow, if we were a united people, ac- 
cording to the Word of our Heavenly Father, Seek ye first the 
kingdom of God, and all other things shall be added unto 
you." 



"THE CHRISTIAN MAN THE MAN 
OF THE DAY." 



[Delivered in St. Paul's Church, Brooklyn, on March 22d, 1872.] 

Y friends, I have selected as the subject on which to 
address you, the following theme : — The Christian 
Man the Man of the Day." You may, perhaps, be 
inclined to suppose that I mean by this, that, in 
reality, the Christian man was the actual man of the day. 
That he was the man whom our age loved to honor ; that he 
was the man who, recognized as a Christian man, received, for 
that very reason, the confidence of his fellow-men, and every 
honor society could bestow upon him. Do not flatter your- 
selves, my friends, that this is my meaning. I do not mean to 
say that the Christian man is the man of the day. I wish I 
could say so. But, what I do mean is, that the Christian man, 
and he alone, must be the man of the day ; that our age cannot 
live without him ; and that we are fast approaching to such a 
point that the world itself will be obliged, on the principle of 
self-preservation, to cry out for the Christian man. But to-day 
he is not in the high places ; for the spirit of the age is not Chris- 
tian. Now, mark you, there is no man living w^ho is a greater 
lover of his age than 1. And, priest as I am, and monk as 
well, coming here before you in this time-honored old habit ; 
coming before the men of the nineteenth century as if I were 
a fossil dug out of the soil of the thirteenth century, I still 
come before you as a lover of the age in which we live ; a lover 
of its freedom, a lover of its laws, and a lover of its material 
progress. But, I still assert that the spirit of this nineteenth 
century of ours is not Catholic. Let me prove it. At this 
very moment the Catholic Church, through her bishops, is 




The Christian Man, Etc. 



63 



engaged in a hand-to-hand and deadly conflict, in England, in 
Ireland, in Belgium, in France, in Germany, ay, and in this 
country, with the spirit of the age ; and for what ? The men 
in power try to lay hold of the young child, to control that 
child's education, and to teach him all things except religion. 
But the bishops come and say : This is a question of life and 
death, and the child must be a Christian. Unless he is taught 
of God, it is a thousand times better that he were never taught 
at all ; for knowledge without God is a curse, and not a bless- 
ing." Now, if our age were Christian, would it thus seek to 
banish God from the schools, to erase the name of God clean 
out of the heart of the little ones, for whom Jesus Christ, the 
Son of God, shed his blood ? Another proof that the spirit of 
our age is anti-Christian, for whatever contradicts Christ is 
anti-Christian. Speaking of the most sacred bond of matri- 
mony, which lies at the root of all society, at the fountain-head 
of all the world's future — Christ has said, ^' What God hath 
joined together, let no man put asunder." But the Legislature, 
the spirit of this age of ours, comes in and says : I will not 
recognize the union as of God, and I will reserve to myself the 
right to separate them." They have endeavored to substitute 
a civil marriage for the holy sacrament which Jesus Christ 
sanctified by His presence, and ratified by His first miracle — 
the sacrament which represents the union of Christ with His 
Church. I will not let God join them together," says the 
State. " Let them go to a magistrate, or a registrar." Let 
God have nothing to do with it. Let no sanctifying influence 
be upon them ; leave them to their own lustful desires, and to 
the full enjoyment of wicked passions, unchecked by God. 
Thus the State rules, in case of marriage, and says : I will 
break asunder that bond." And it made the anti-Christian law 
of divorce." Whom God joins together," says the Master 
of the world — whose word shall never pass away, though 
heaven and earth shall pass away — 'Met no man separate." 
God alone can do it ; the man who dares to do it shakes the 
very foundation of society, and takes the key-stone out of the 
arch. But the State comes, and says : " I will do it." This 
is the legislation — this is the spirit of our age. I do not mean 
to say that there were not sins and vices in other ages; but I 
have been taught to look back from my earliest childhood. 



64 



TJie Christian Man 



backward full six hundred years, to that glorious thirteenth 
century, for the bloom and flower of sanctity prospering upon 
the earth. Still, I have been so taught as not to shut my eyes 
to its vices ; and yet, the spirit of that age was more Christian 
than the spirit of this. The spirit that had faith enough to 
declare that, whatever else Avas touched by profane hands, the 
sanctity of the marriage sacrament was to remain inviolate — ■ 
when all recognized its living author as the Son of God. It 
had faith enough to move all classes of men as one individual, 
and as possessing one faith, and one lofty purpose. And this 
is not the spirit of our age. Whom do we hear are the men 
who invent and make our telegraphs and railroads, and all the 
great works of the day ? We hear very little about Catholics 
being anything generally but lookers-on in these great matters ; 
that Catholics had nothing to do with them, and that they 
came in simply to profit by the labor of others. And yet, 
don't we know that nearly every great discovery made upon 
this earth was made by some Catholic man or other ; and some 
of the greatest of them all made by old monks in their clois- 
ters. And as the spirit of the day makes the man of the 
day, I cannot congratulate you, my friends, that the man of 
the day is a Christian man. Now, I am here this evening, to 
prove to you, and to bring home to your intelligence, two great 
facts — remember them always : First — The man the Avorld 
makes independent of God, is such an incubus and curse, that 
the world itself cannot bear him, that the world itself cannot 
endure him ; for, if he leaves his mark upon history, it is a 
curse, and for evil. Secondly — The only influence that can 
purify and save the world, is the spirit of that glorious religion 
which alone represents Christianity. Call me no bigot if I say, 
that the Catholic Church alone is the great representative of 
Christianity. I do not deny that there is goodness outside of 
it, nor that there are good and honest men who are not of this 
Church. Whenever I meet an honest, truthful man, I never 
stop to inquire if he is Catholic or Protestant ; I am always 
ready to do him honor, as the noblest work of God. But this 
I do say — all this is, in reality, represented in the Catholic 
Church. And I further assert that the Catholic Church alone 
has the power to preserve in man the consciousness that God 
has created him. And, now, having laid down my opening 



The Man of the Day, 



remarks, let us look at the man of the day, and sec what 
he is. 

Many of you have the ambition to become men of the day. 
It is a pleasant thing to be pointed at and spoken of as a man 
of the day. There is a man who has made his mark." There 
is a m.an of whom every one speaks well ; the intelligent man, 
the successful man, the man who is able to propound the law 
by expressing his opinion — able to sway the markets ; the man 
whose name is blazoned everywhere. You all admire this man. 
But let us examine him in detail — for he is made for mere show, 
a mere simulacrum of a man. Let us pick him in pieces, and 
see what is in this man of the day — whether he will satisfy God 
or man — see whether he will come up to the wants of society 
or not. Man, I suppose you will all admit, was created by 
Almighty God for certain fixed, specific purposes and duties. 
Surely, the God of wisdom, of infinite love — a God of infinite 
knowledge and freedom, never communicated to an intelligent, 
human being power and knowledge like his own, without having 
some high, grand, magnificent, and God-like purpose in view. 
A certain purpose must have guided Him. Certain duties must 
have attached to the glorious privileges that are thus imprinted 
in man's soul as the image of God. And hence, my friends, 
there are the duties man owes to the family, the duties of the 
domestic circle, the duties he owes to society, to those who 
come within the range of his influence, within the circle of his 
friendship, to those with whom he has commercial or other 
relations, the duties he owes to his country and native land, his 
political duties ; and, finally, over them all, permeating through 
them all, overshadowing all that is in him, there is his great 
duty to Almighty God, who made him. Now, what are man's 
duties in the domestic circle ? Surely, the first virtue of man in 
this circle is the virtueof fidelity, representing the purity of Jesus 
Christ in the man's soul ; the virtues of fidelity, stability, and im- 
movable loyalty to the vows he has pledged before high heaven, 
and to all the consequences these vows have involved. God 
created man with a hearty disposition to love and to find the 
worthy object of his love ; and to give to that object the lo\'e of 
his heart is the ordinary nature of man. A few are put aside — 
among them the priest and the monk and the nun, to whom 
God says : I, myself, will be )'Our love ;" and they know no 

5 



66 



TJie Christian Man. 



love save that of the Lord Jesus Christ. Yet they have the 
same craving for love, the same desire, and the same necessity. 
But to them the Lord says : I, myself, will be your love, your 
portion, your inheritance." These, I say, are those who are 
wrapt in the love of the Lord Jesus Christ. This is not the 
time nor the occasion for me to dwell upon the infinite joy and 
substantial happiness of the days of those who have fastened 
their hearts upon the great heart of Jesus Christ ; but, for the 
ordinar}^ run of mankind, love is a necessity ; and the Almighty 
has created that desire for love in the hearts of all men ; and it 
has become sanctified and typical of the union of Christ with 
His Church — typical of the grace that Christ poured abroad 
upon her. This love and union must lie at the x^ry fountain- 
head of society, it must sanctify the very spring whence all our 
human nature flows ; for it is out of this union of two loving 
hearts that our race is propagated, and mankind continued to 
live on earth. What is the grace that sanctifies it? I answer, 
it is the grace of fidelity. L^nderstand me well ; there is nothing 
more erratic, nothing more changeable than this heart of man ; 
nothing wilder in its acts, in its propensities, than this treacher- 
ous heart of man. I know of no greater venture that a human 
being can make than that which a young woman makes, w^hen 
she takes the hand of a young man, and hears the oath from his 
lips that no other love than hers shall ever enter his heart. A 
treacherous, erratic heart is this of man ; prone to change, 
prone to evil influences, excited by every form of passing beauty. 
But from that union spring the obligations of father and mother 
to their progeny. Their children are to be educated ; and as 
they grow up and bloom into the fullness of their reason, the 
one object of the Christian father and mother is to bring out of 
these children the Christianity that is latent there. Christ enters 
into that young soul by baptism ; but He lies sleeping in that 
soul, acting only upon the blind animal instincts of infancy ; 
and, as the child wakes to reason, Christ that sleeps there must 
be awakened and developed, until that child comes to the full- 
ness of his intellectual age, and the man of God is fully devel- 
oped in the child of earth. Education is nothing unless it 
brings out the Christ in the man. This is the true end and 
object of all education. Now, how does the man of the day 
fulfill this end ? how does he fulfill these duties to his wife and to 



The Maji of the Day. 



67 



his children, these duties which we call the domestic duties ? 
This clever" man of the day — how docs he fulfill them? He, 
perhaps, in his humbler days, before he knew to what meridian 
the sun of his fortune would one day rise, took to himself a 
fair and modest wife. Fortune smiled upon him. The woman 
remained content only with her first and simple love, and with 
fidelity to the man of her choice and the duties which that love 
brought with them. But how is it with the man of the day? 
Shall I insult the ears of the Christian by following the man of 
the day through all the dark paths of his iniquity? Shall I 
describe to you the glance of his lustful eye, forgetful of the 
vows he has made to the one at home ? Can I tell you of the 
man of the day, following every passing form, a mere lover of 
beauty ; without principle, without God, without virtue, and 
without a thought of the breaking hearts at home ? Shall I 
tell you of the man of the day trying to conceal the silvering 
hand of age as it passes over him, trying to retain the shadow 
of departed youth — and why ? Because all the worst vices of 
the young blood are there, for they are inseparable from the 
man of the day. Sometimes, in some fearful example, he comes 
out before us in all his terrible deformity. The world is aston- 
ished — the world is frightened for a moment ; but men who 
understand all these things better than you or I come to us, and 
say, "Oh! this is what is going on; this is the order of the 
day." There is no vestige of purity, no vestige of fidelity. 
Mind and imagination corrupted ; the very flesh rotting, defiled 
by excess of unmentionable sin. And if children are born to 
the wicked and faithless adulterer, the time comes when the 
State assumes that which neither God nor man intended it 
should assume — namely, the office of instructor ; when the 
State comes and says, "I will take the children; I will teach 
them everything excepting God ; I will bring them up clever 
men, but infidels, without the knowledge of God." Then the 
man of the day turns round to the State, and says, Take the 
labor off our hands; these children are incumbrances; we don't 
want to educate them ; you say you will." But the Church 
comes in, like a true mother — like the mother of the days of 
Solomon ; and with heartbreaking accent says to the father. 
Give me the child, for it was to me that Christ said, ' Go and 
teach ; go and educate.' " But the father turns away. He will 



68 



The Christian Man 



not trust his child to that instructor who will bring up this child 
as a rebuke to him in his old age, for his wickedness, by its own 
virtue and goodness. The spirit of our age not only tolerates 
this, but actually assists all this. This man may tell his wife 
that she is not the undisturbed mistress of her house. He may 
come in with a writing of ''divorce" in his hand, and turn his 
wife out of doors. Yes; when her beauty and accomplishments 
are not up to the fastidious taste of this man of the day, he 
may call in the State to make a decree of " divorce," and depose 
the mother of his children, the queen of his heart. 

Let us now pass from the domestic to the social circle. He 
is surrounded by his friends and has social influence. He has a 
duty, to lay at least one stone in the building up of that society 
of which the Almighty created him a member, and of which 
He will demand an account in the hour of death. Every man 
is a living member of society. He owes a duty to that society. 
What is that duty? It is a duty of truthfulness to our friends, 
a good example to those around us, a respect and veneration 
for every one with whom we come in contact, especially the 
young. Even the pagans acknowledge this in the maxim, 
'' Maxima debet ur ptiero reverential The man of the day opens 
his mouth to vomit forth words of blasphemy, or sickening 
obscenity, and before him may be the young boy, growing into 
manhood, learning studiously from the accomplished jester's 
lips the lesson of iniquity and impurity that will ruin his soul. 
Hear him, and follow him into more refined and general society. 
What a consummate hypocrite he is, when he enters his own 
house, dressed for the evening, with a smile upon his face, and 
with words of affection upon his adulterous lips, he addresses 
himself to his wife, or to his daughter, or to his lady friends ! 
What a consummate hypocrite he is ! Ah ! who would magine 
that he knows every mystery of iniquity and defilement, even 
to its lowest depths ! Ah, who would imagine that this smiling 
face has learned the smile of contempt for everything that 
savors of virtue, of purity, and of God ! Who would imagine 
that the man who takes the virgin hand of the young girl in his, 
and leads her with so much confidence and so much gladness to 
the altar, who would imagine that that man's hand is already 
defiled with the touch of everything abominable that the demon 
of impurity could present to him ! Take him in his relations 



The Man of tJie Day. 



69 



with his friends. Is he a trustworthy friend ? Is he a reliable 
man? Will he not slip the wicked publication into the hands of 
his young friend to instruct him in vice? Will he not pass the 
obscene book from hand to hand, with a pleasant look, as though 
it were a good thing, although he knows the poison of hell is 
lurking between its leaves ? Is he a reliable man ? Is he trust- 
worthy? Go down and ask his friends will they trust him, and 
they will turn and laugh in your face, and tell you he is as 
" slippery as an eel." 

This is the man of the day — this boasted hero of ours — in a 
social way. Pass a step further on. Take him in his relations 
to his country, to its legislature, to its government. Take him 
in what they call the political relations of life. What shall I 
say of him ? I can simply put it all in a nutshell. I ask you, 
friends, in this, our day, suppose somebody were to ask you to 
say a good word for him as for a friend ; suppose somebody 
were to ask you the character of the man, and suppose you 
said : Well, he is an honest man ; a man of upright charac- 
ter in business ; a man of well-ascertained character in soci- 
ety ; a good father, a good husband — but, you know — he is 
a politician ?" I ask you, is there not something humil- 
iating in the acknowledgment — "He is a politician?" Is it 
not almost as if you said something dishonorable, something 
bad ? But there ought to be nothing dishonorable in it. On 
the contrary, every man ought to be a politician — especially in 
this glorious new country, which gives every man a right of 
citizenship, and tells him, My friend, I will not make a law 
to bind and govern you without your consent and permission " 
— why, that very fact makes every man a politician among us. 
But if it does, does it not also recognize the grand virtue which 
underlies every free government — which makes every man a 
sharer in its blessings because he enhances them by his integ- 
rity — which makes politics something, not a shame and a dis- 
grace, but something to be honored and prized as the aim of 
unselfish patriotism ? What is that ? It is a love, but not a 
selfish love, of his country ; a love, not seeking to control or 
share its administration for selfish purposes — not to become 
rich — not to share in this or take that — but to serve the coun- 
try for its good, and to leave an honorable and unblemished 
name in the annals of that countr}^'s history. Is this the man 



70 



The Christia7i Man 



of the day? I will not answer the question. I am a stranger 
amongst you, and it were a great presumption in me to enter 
upon a dissertation on the politics of America. But this I do 
know, that if the politicians of this country are as bad, or half 
as bad as their own newspapers represent them, then it is no 
credit to a man to be accounted a politician. Some time ago a 
fellow was arrested in France for having committed several 
crimes, and whilst he pleaded guilty to the various counts of the 
indictment, he added, as an extenuating circumstance, "but 
thank God I am no Jesuit." This man had been reading the 
French infidel newspapers, and he thought a priest something 
worse than himself. Bad as he was, he thought it was only 
due to his character to say that he was no Jesuit. " In the 
lowest depths, there's a lower still," and this criminal imagined 
that he had not reached the lowest and worst depth of crime as 
long as he could say that he was no Jesuit. If a man were ar- 
raigned for any conceivable crime in this country, he might urge, 
as an extenuating circumstance, 'Tis true ; I did it ; but I am 
no politician !" Thank God, there are many and honorable 
exceptions. If there were not many honorable exceptions 
what would become of society ? Why, society itself would 
come to a stand-still. But there are honest and independent 
men, and no word of mine can be regarded as, in the 
slightest degree, reflecting on any man, or class of men. True, 
I know no one — I speak simply as a stranger coming amongst 
you, and from simply reading the accounts that your daily 
papers give. 

Now, I ask you, if the man of the age, or the day, be such — 
(and I do not think that I have overdrawn the picture ; nay 
more — I am convinced that in the words I have used you have 
recognized the truth — perhaps something less than the whole 
truth — of " the man of the day" in his social, political, and 
domestic relations) — I ask you — not as a Catholic priest at all, 
but as a man — as a man not Avithout some amount of intelli- 
gence — as one speaking to his fellow-men as intellectual men — 
can this thing go on? Should this thing go on? Are you in 
society prepared to accept that man as a true man of the day ? 
Are you prepared to multiply him as the model man ? Are you 
prepared to say: ''We are satisfied; becomes up to our re- 
quirements?" Or, on the other hand, must you say this: "It 



The Man of the Day. 



71 



will never do : if this be the man of the day, there is an end to 
society ; if this be the man of the day, it will never do ; we 
must seek another style — another stamp of man, with other 
principles of conduct, or else society comes to a deadlock and 
standstill." And to those two propositions I will invite your 
attention. Go back three hundred years ago. When Martin 
Luther inaugurated Protestantism, one of the principles upon 
which he rested his fallacy was to separate the Church from all 
influence upon human affairs. Protestantism said : Let her 
teach religion, but let her not be mixing herself up with this 
question or that." The Church of God, my dear friends, not 
only holds and is the full deposit of truth, not only preaches it, 
not only pours forth her sacramental graces — but the Church — 
the Catholic Church — mixes herself up with the thousand ques- 
tions of the day — not as guiding them, not as dictating or iden- 
tifying herself with this policy or that, but as simply coming in 
to declare, in every walk of life, certain principles and rules of 
conduct. Here let me advert to the false principle that, outside 
of the four walls of her temples, she has nothing to do with 
man's daily work. This principle was followed out in France in 
1792-3, when not only was the Church separated from all legiti- 
mate influence in society, but she was completely deposed, for 
the time being. And now, the favorite expression of this day 
of ours is: Oh, let the Catholic priests preach until they are 
hoarse ; let them fire away until they are black in the face ; but 
let us have no Catholicity here. Catholicity there, the priest 
everywhere ! We will not submit to it, like the Irish, getting 
the priest into every social relation ; taking his advice in every- 
thing; acting under his counsel in everything. We will not 
submit to be a priest-ridden people. We will not submit to 
have the priest near us at all, outside of his church. If he 
stays there, well and good; let those who want him go to him, 
but outside the church-walls let every man do as he pleases." 
For the last century all the Catholic nations of Europe — in 
fact, the whole world — have, more or less, acted upon this 
principle. Let us see the advantages of all this. Has the world, 
society, governments, legislatures, gained anything? To the 
Church they say, Stand aside ; don't presume to come into 
the Senate or the Parliament. We will make laws without you. 
Don't be preaching to me about God ; I can get along without 



72 



TJie Christian Mmi 



you." The world has tried its hand, and it has produced that 
beautiful man I have described to you — the man of the day — 
the accomplished man — the gentleman — the man in kid gloves 
— the man who is so well dressed — the man with the gemmed 
watch and gold chain — the man with the lacquered hair and 
well-trimmed whisker. Don't trust his word — he is a liar ! 
Don't trust him. Oh, fathers of families, children, don't have 
anything to say to him I He is a bad man. Keep away from 
him. Close the doors of your government house — of your 
House of Representatives — against him. This is the man whom 
the Church knows not as her creation ; whom the world and 
Avhom. society have to fear. If this is the best thing that the 
world has created, surely it ought to be proud of its offspring I 
Society lives and can only live upon the purity that pervades 
the domestic circle and sanctifies it ; upon the truthfulness and 
integrity that guard all the social relations of life and sanctify 
them ; and upon the pure and disinterested love of country 
upon which alone true patriotism depends. Stand aside, man 
of the day ! You are unfit for these things. Stand aside. O 
shnulacrtnn ! O counterfeit of man, stand aside. Thou art 
not fit to encumber this earth. Where is the truthfulness of 
thy intellect, thou scoffer at all religion ? Where is the purity 
of thy heart, thou faithless husband ? Where is the honesty of 
thy life, thou pilfering politician ? Stand aside I If we have 
nothing better than you, Ave must come to ruin. Stand forth, 
O Christian man, and let us see what we can make of thee ! 
Hast thou principles, O Christian man ? He advances, and 
says : " My first principle is this : that the Almighty God created 
me responsible for every wilful thought, and word, and act of 
my life. I believe in that responsibility before God. I believe 
that these thoughts, and words, and acts shall be my blessed- 
ness or my damnation for eternity." These are the first prin- 
ciples of the Christian man. Give me a man that binds up 
eternity with his thoughts, and his words, and his acts of to- 
day. I warrant you he will be very careful how he thinks, how 
he speaks, and how he acts. I will trust that man, because he 
does not love honesty for the sake of man, but for the love of 
his own soul ; not for the love of the world, but for the love of 
God. Stand forth, O Christian man, and tell us what are thy 
principles in thy domestic relations, which, as father and hus- 



The Man of the Day. 



73 



band, thou hast assumed. He comes forth and says : I believe, 
and I believe it on the peril of my eternal salvation, that I must 
be as true in my thought and in my act to the woman whom I 
made my wife, as you, a priest, are to the altar of Jesus Christ. 
I believe that, as long as the Angel of Death comes not between 
me and that woman, she is to be queen of my heart, the 
mother and mistress in my household ; and that no power, save 
the hand of God, can separate us, or break the tie that binds 
us." Well said ! thou faithful Christian man. Well said ! Tell 
us about thy relations to thy children. The Christian man 
answers and says : " I believe and I know that if one of these 
children rises up in judgment against me, and cries out neglect 
and bad education and bad example against me, that alone 
will weigh me down and cast me into hell forever." Well said, 

Christian father ! You are the man of the day, so far. With 
you the domestic hearth and circle will remain holy. When 
your shadow, after your day's labor, falls across your humble 
threshold, it is the shadow of a man loving the God of all 
fidelity, and of all sanctity, in his soul. What are your rela- 
tions to your friends, O Christian man ? He answers : I love 
my friend in Jesus Christ. I believe that when I speak of my 
friend, or of my fellow-man, every word I utter goes forth into 
eternity, there to be registered for or against me, as true or false. 

1 believe that when my friend, or neighbor and fellow-man, is in 
want or in miser}^ and that he sends forth the ciy for consolation 
or for relief, I am bound to console him, or to relieve him, as if I 
saw" my Lord Himself lying prostrate and helpless before me." 
" Wlio are thy enemies, O man of faith?" He answers, Ene- 
mies I have none." " Do you not hold him as an enemy who 
harms you ? " No, I see him in my own sin, and in the bleed- 
ing hands and open side of Jesus Christ, my God ; and whatever 
I see there I must love in spite of all injustice." ''What are 
your political relations ? " He answers and says, ''If anyone 
says of another, he is a man who fattened upon corruption, no 
man can say so of me. I entered into the arena of my countrj^'s 
service, and came forth with unstained hands. Whatever I 
have done, I have done for love of my countr}-, because my 
country holds upon me the strongest and highest claims after 
those of God." 

Heart and mind are there. Oh, how strand is the character 



74 



The Christian Man 



that is thus built up upon Faith and Love ! Oh, how grand is 
this man, so faithful at home, so truthful abroad, so irreproach- 
able in the senate or the forum ! Where shall we find him ? 
I answer, the Catholic Church alone can produce him. This is 
a bold assertion. I do not deny that he may exist outside the 
Catholic Church ; but if he does it is as an exception ; and the 
exception proves the rule. I do not deny much of what I have 
said, if not all, to that glorious name that shall live forever as 
the very type of patriotism, and honor, and virtue, and truth — 
the grand, the majestic, the immortal name of George Wash- 
ington, the father of his country ! But, just as a man may 
find a rare and beautiful flower, even in the field, or by the 
roadside, and he is surprised and says, " How came it to be 
here? How came it to grow here?" When he goes into the 
garden, the cultivated spot, he finds it as a matter of course, 
because the soil was prepared for it, and the seed was sown. 
There is no surprise, no astonishment, to find the man of whom 
I speak — the Christian man — in the Catholic Church. If you 
want to find him, as a matter of course — if you want to find 
the agencies that produce him — if you want to find the soil he 
must grow in, if he grows at all, you must go into the Catholic 
Church, decidedly. Nowhere out of the Catholic Church is 
the bond of matrimony indissoluble. In the Catholic Church, 
the greatest ruffian, the most depraved man that ever lived, 
the most faithless woman that ever cursed the world, if they 
are faithless to everything, they must remain joined by the 
adamantine bonds that the Church will not allow any man to 
break. Secondly, the only security you have for all I have 
spoken of as enriching man in his social and political relations, 
is in conscience. If a man has no conscience, he can have no 
truth ; he loses his power of discerning the difference between 
truth and falsehood. If a man has no conscience, he loses all 
knowledge and all sense of sin. If a man has no conscience, 
he loses, by degrees, even the very abstract faith that there is 
for good in him. Conscience is a most precious gift of God ; 
but, like every other faculty in the soul of man, unless it be 
exercised, it dies out. The conscience of man must be made 
a living tribunal within him, and he must bring his own soul 
and his own life before that tribunal. A man may kneel down, 
he may pray to God, he may listen to the voice of the preacher 



The Man of the Day. 



75 



attentively and seriously; but in the Catholic Church alone, 
there is one sacrament, and that sacrament the most frequent, 
and the most necessary, after baptism — and that is the sacra- 
ment of penance ; the going to confession — an obligation 
imposed under pain of mortal sin, and of essential need to 
every Catholic at stated times ; an obligation that no Catholic 
can shrink from without covering himself with sin. This is at 
once a guarantee for the existence of a conscience in a man, 
and a restraining power, which is the very test, and the crucial 
test, of a man's life. A Catholic may sin, like other men ; he 
may be false in every relation of life ; he may be false in the 
domestic circle ; he may be false socially ; he may be false 
politically ; but one thing you may be sure of, that he either 
does not go to confession at all, or, if he goes to confession, 
and comes to the holy altar, there is an end to his falsehood, 
there is an end to his sin ; and the whole world around him, in 
the social circle, the domestic circle, the political circle, receives 
an absolute guarantee, an absolute proof that that man must 
be all that I have described the Christian man to be — a man in 
whom every one, in every relation of life, may trust and con- 
fide. This is the test. Don't speak to me of Catholics who 
don't give us this test. When a Catholic does not go to the 
sacraments, I could no more trust in him than in any other 
man. I say to you, don't talk to me about Catholics who 
don't go to the sacraments. I have nothing to say of them, 
only to pray for them, to preach to them, and to beseech them 
to come to this holy sacrament, where they will find grace to 
enable them to live up to the principles w^hich they had for- 
saken. But give me the practical Catholic, the intellectual 
man ! Give me the man of faith. Give me tl;e man of human 
power and intelligence, and the higher power, divine principle 
and divine love ! With that man, as with the lever of Archim- 
edes, I will move the world. 

Let me speak to you, in conclusion, of such a man. Let me 
speak to you of one whose form, as I beheld it in early youth, 
now looms up before me ; so fills, in imagination, the halls of 
my memory, that I behold him now as I beheld him years ago, 
majestic in stature, an eye gleaming with intellectual power, a 
mighty hand uplifted, waving, quivering with honest indigna- 
tion ; his voice thundering like the voice of a god in the tern- 



76 



TJic Christian Man 



pest, against all injustice and all dishonor. I speak of Ireland's 
greatest son, the immortal Daniel O'Connell. He came. He 
found a nation the most faithful, the most generous on the face 
of the earth ; he found a people not deficient in any power of 
human intelligence or human courage ; chaste in their domestic 
relations, reliable to each other, and truthful — and, above all, a 
people who, for centuries and centuries, had lived, and died, 
and suffered, to uphold the Faith and the Cross. He came, and 
he found that people, after the rebellion of Ninety-Eight, down- 
trodden in the blood-stained dust, and bound in chains. The 
voice of Ireland was silent. The heart of the nation was 
broken. Every privilege, civil and otherwise, was taken from 
them. They were commanded, as the only condition of the 
toleration of their existence, to lie down in their blood-stained 
fetters of slavery, and to be grateful to the hand that only left 
them life. He brought to that prostrate people a Christian 
spirit and a Christian soul. He brought his mighty faith in 
God and in God's Holy Church. He brought his great human 
faith in the power of justice, and in the omnipotence of right. 
He roused the people from their lethargy. He sent the cry 
for justice throughout the land, and he proved his own sin- 
cerity to Ireland and to her cause, by laying down an income 
of sixty thousand pounds a year, that he might enter into her 
service. He showed the people the true secret of their 
strength himself. Thundering to-day for justice in the halls of 
the English Senate, on the morrow morning he was seen in the 
confessional, and kneeling at the altar to receive his God — with 
one hand leaning upon the eternal cause of God's justice, the 
other leaning upon the Lord Jesus Christ. Upheld by these 
and by the power of his own genius, he left his mark upon his 
age ; he left his mark upon his country ! This was, indeed, the 
''Man of his Day!" the Christian man, of whom the world 
stood in awe — faithful as a husband and father ; faithful as a 
friend ; the delight of all who knew him ! faithful in his dis- 
interested labors ! wath an honorable, honest spirit of self- 
devotion in his countr}^'s cause I He raised that prostrate 
form ; he struck the chains from those virgin arms, and placed 
upon her head a crown of free worship and free education. He 
made Ireland to be, in a great measure, what he always prayed 
and hoped she might be, The Queen of the Western Isles, and 



TJie Man of the Day. 



77 



the proudest gem that the Atlantic bears upon the surface of 
its green waters." Oh, if there were a few more Hke him ! 
Oh, that our race would produce a few more like him ! Our 
O'Connell was Irish of the Irish and Catholic of the Catholic. 
We are Irish and we are Catholic. How is it we have not 
more men like him ? Is the stamina wanting to us ? Is the 
intellect wanting to us ? Is the power of united expression in 
the interests of society wanting to us? No ! But the religious 
Irishman of our day refuses to be educated, and the educated 
Irishman of to-day refuses to be religious. These two go hand 
in hand. Unite the highest education with the deepest and 
tenderest practical love of God and of your religion, and I see 
before me, in many of the young faces on which I look, the 
stamp of our Irish genius ; I see before me many who may be 
the fathers and legislators of the Republic, the leaders of our 
race, and the heroes of our common country and our common 
religion. 



4 



"THE CATHOLIC CHURCH THE 
MOTHER OF LIBERTY." 



[Delivered in St. Paul's Church, Brooklyn, March 3, 1872.] 

Y friends : On last Tuesday evening, when I had the 
honor of addressing you, I proposed to you a subject 
for your consideration, which, perhaps, may have struck 
a good many amongst you as strange. We are such 
worshippers of this age of ours, that when the man of the day," 
as he is called, is put before us in any other than an amiable 
light, no matter how true it may be, it seems strange, and it is a 
hazardous thing for me to attempt. But there are many among 
you that will consider the thing I have undertaken to do this 
evening, a still more hazardous attempt — namely, to prove to 
you that the Catholic Church is the foster-mother of human 
liberty. Was there ever so strange a proposition heard — the 
Catholic Church the mother of human liberty ! If I undertook 
to prove that the Catholic Church was the instrument chosen by 
Almighty God to save Christianity, I might do it on the testi- 
mony of Protestant historians. I might quote, for instance, 
Guizot, the French statesman and historian, who repeatedly and 
emphatically asserts that only for the organization of bishops, 
priests, monks, etc., what is called *'the Church," the Christian 
religion would never have been preserved ; never have been able 
to sustain the shock of the incursions of the barbarians of the 
North upon the Roman Empire ; and never have been preserved 
through the following ages of confusion, and, some people say, 
darkness. I could quote the great German historian, Neander, 
who was not only a Protestant, but bitterly opposed to the 
Catholic Church, who repeats, again and again, the self-same 




The Catholic ChurcJi the Mother of Liberty. 



79 



proposition. ''Were it not," said he, " for the Church, the 
Christian rehgion must have perished during the time that 
elapsed between the fifth and the tenth centuries." I might, I 
say again, find it easy to prove any one of these propositions, 
with less fear of cavil. Ah, but this is quite another thing, you 
will say in your own minds. This man tells us that he is pre- 
pared to prove that the Catholic Church is the foster-mother of 
human liberty. Why, ''the man of the day," whom we were 
considering on Tuesday evening, is not a very amiable character. 
He has a great many vices ; there are a great many moral de- 
formities about him — this boasted man of the nineteenth 
century. But there is one thing that he lays claim to : he says 
— and he says it as something which no man can gainsay — that 
he is a free man ; that he is not like those men who lived in the 
ages when the Catholic Church had power ; when she was en- 
abled to enforce her laws. " Then, indeed," he says, " men 
were slaves, but now, whatever our faults may be, we have free- 
dom. Nay, more, we will add, we have freedom in spite of the 
Catholic Church. We are free because we have succeeded in 
disarming the Catholic Church ; in taking the power out of her 
hands. We are free because our legislation and the spirit of our 
age is hostile to the Catholic Church. How then, monk, do you 
presume to come here and tell us, the men of the day, that this 
Church of yours — this Church whose very name we associate 
with the idea of intellectual slavery — that she is the foster- 
mother of human liberty ? " Well ! I need not tell you, my 
friends, that there is nothing easier than to make assertions ; 
that there is nothing easier than to proclaim such and such 
things ; lay them down as if they were the law ; tumble it out 
as if it was gospel. It may be a lie. Out with it ! Assert it 
strongly. Repeat it. Don't let it be put down. Assert it 
again and again. Even though it be a lie, yet a great many 
people will believe it. Nothing is easier than to make assertions 
without thinking well on what we say. Now, let me ask you, 
this evening, to do what very few men in this age of ours do at 
all ; and that is, to reflect a little. It is simply astonishing, con- 
sidering the powers that God has given to man — the power of 
thought, the power of reflection, the power of analysing facts 
and weighing statements, the power of reducing things to their 
first principles — I say it is astonishing to think of that, and to 



8o 



TJic CatJiolic Church 



look around us and see how few the men are who reason at all 
— who reflect — who take time for thought ; how many there are 
who use words of which they do not know the meaning. Take, 
for instance, that word liberty." I need hardly tell you that 
I must explain it to you before I advance the proposition that 
the Catholic Church is the mother of liberty. 

What is the meaning of the word Liberty," so dear to us 
all ? We are always boasting of it ; the patriot is always aspir- 
ing to it ; the revolutionist makes it justify all his wiles and all 
his conspiracies. It is the word that floats upon the glorious 
folds of the nation's banners as they are flung out upon the 
breeze over the soldier's head ; and he is cheered in his last mo- 
ments by the sacred sound of liberty ! It is a word dear to us 
all — our boast. What is the boast of America ? That it is the 
Land of Freedom. Yes ; but I ask you, Do you know what it 
means? Liberty! Just reflect upon it a little. Does liberty 
mean freedom from restraint.^ Does liberty, in your mind, 
mean freedom from any power, government, restraint of 
legislation? Is this your meaning of liberty? For in- 
stance : is this your meaning of liberty — that every man can 
do what he likes? If so, you cannot complain if you are 
stopped by the robber on the roadside, and he puts his pistol 
to your head and says, " Your money or your life ! " You can- 
not complain ; he is only using his liberty in doing what he 
likes. Does liberty mean that the murderer may come and put 
his knife in you ? Does liberty mean that the dishonest man is 
to be allowed to pilfer? Is this liberty? This is freedom from re- 
straint. But is it liberty ? Most certainly not. You will not con- 
sider that you are slaves because you live under laws that tell you 
that }^ou must not steal ; that you must not murder; that you 
must not interfere with or violate each other's rights, but that 
you must respect those of each other ; and if you don't do that 
you must be punished. You don't consider you are slaves 
because you are under the restraint of law. Whatever liberty 
means, therefore, it does not, in its true meaning, imply simple 
and mere freedom from restraint. Yet, how many there are 
who use this word and who attach this meaning to it. What is 
liberty? There are in man — in the soul of man — two great 
powers — God-like, angelic, spiritual — viz. : the intelligence of 
the mind and the will. The intelligence of the human mind. 



TJie Mother of Liberty. 



8i 



the soul, and the will, are the true fountains and the seat of 
liberty. What is the freedom of the intelligence ? What is the 
freedom of the will? There are no other powers in man capa- 
ble of this freedom except these two. If you ask me, in what 
does the freedom of the intelligence and of the will of man 
consist, I answer, the freedom of the intellect consists in being 
free from error — from intellectual error. The freedom of man's 
intelligence consists in its being perfectly free from the dangers 
and liability of believing that which is false. The slavery of 
the intelligence in man is submission in mind and in belief to 
that which is a lie. If, for instance, I came here this evening, 
and if, by the power of language, by plausibility of words, by 
persuasiveness, I got any man amongst you to believe a lie, and 
take that lie as truth, and admit it into his mind as truth, and 
admit it as a principle that is right, and just, and true, when it 
is false and unjust and a lie — that man is intellectually a slave. 
Falsehood is the slavery of the intelligence. Reflect a little 
upon this. It is well worth reflecting upon. It is a truth that 
is not grasped or held by the men of this century, of ours. 
There was a time when it was considered a disreputable thing 
to believe a lie. There was a time when men were ashamed of 
believing what, even by possibility, could be a lie. Now-a-days, 
men glory in it. It was- but a short time ago a popular orator 
and lecturer in England, speaking of the multitude of religious 
sects that are there — speaking of those who assert that Christ 
is God, and of those who assert that He is not G.od ; — of those 
who assert that there are three persons in the Trinity, and of 
those who assert that there is no Trinity ; — of those who assert 
that good works are necessary for salvation, and of those who 
assert that good works are not necessary at all ; — of those who 
assert that Christ is present on the altar, and of those who say 
it is a damnable heresy to assert that He is there at all ; — -speak- 
ing of all these, he said, The multitude of sects and churches 
in England is the glory of our age and of our people, for it 
shows what a religious people we are." My God ! A man be- 
lieves a lie ; a man takes a lie to him as if it were the truth of 
God ; a man takes an intellectual falsehood — a thing that is 
false in itself — a thing that has no real existence in fact — a thing 
that God never said, and never thought of saying ; and he lays 
that religious lie upon the altar of his soul, and he bo\\-s down 

6 



82 



The CatJwlic Church 



and does homage to it as if it were the truth ! And then he 
comes out and says : It may be false ; but you know it is a 
reHgious falsehood ; and it is so respectable and religious to 
have a multitude of sects, and it shows what a good people we 
are!" The very definition of intellectual freedom which I am 
about to give you, I take from the highest authority. I will not 
quote for you, my friends, the words of man, but I will quote 
to you the Word of God — of God himself — who ought to know 
best ; of God himself, who made man and gave him his intelli- 
gence and his freedom ; of God himself, who has declared that 
the freedom of the human intellect lies in the possession of the 
truth — the knowledge of the truth — the grasping of the truth 
— the exclusion, by that very fact, of all error. 

Christ, our Lord, said : ''You shall know the truth, and the 
truth shall make you free." You shall know the truth, and in 
the knowledge of that truth will lie your freedom. Mind you. 
He did not say : '' I will send you groping after the truth." 
No ! But you shall know it — you shall have it — no doubt about 
it ! He did not say : '' Here is a book ; here is my word ; take 
it and look for the truth in it ; and if you happen to find it, 
well and good ; if not, you are a religious man for the very seek- 
ing." He did not say : ''Your duty is to seek for the truth ; to 
look for it " — no ; but he said : " You shall have it, and you 
shall know it ; and that shall make your freedom ; and the truth 
shall make you free !" I lay it down therefore, as a first prin- 
ciple, that the very definition of intellectual freedom lies in the 
possession of the truth. 

Now, my friends, before I go any further, I may as well at 
once come home to my subject, and that is, that " The Catholic 
Church alone is the foster-mother of intellectual freedom." 
Afterwards we will come to the freedom of the will. We will 
ask what it is, and apply the same principles in answering it. 
There is in the Catholic Church a power which she has always 
exercised ; and strange to say, it is the very exercise of that 
power which forms the world's chief accusation against her. 
And that is, the power of defining, as articles of faith and dogma 
— as what we are to believe beyond all doubt, all cavil, beyond 
all speculation, what she holds and knows to be true. There is 
this distinguishing feature between the Catholic Church and all 
sects that call themselves religious — that she always speaks 



The MotJier of Liberty, 



83 



clearly. Every child that belongs to her, every man that hears 
her voice, knows precisely what to believe, knows precisely what 
the Church teaches. Never does she leave a soul in doubt. 
What can be more striking than the contrast which Protestant- 
ism presents to the Catholic Church in this respect. In Eng- 
land, whenever any question of doctrine or discipline is raised, 
the Anglican bishops seem lost in utter perplexity, not knowing 
what to say. Be the difficulty great or small, it is all the same. 
From baptismal regeneration or sacerdotal power and office, 
down to the question of lighting a candle or the cut of a surplice, 
they don't know what to say, and their shifting and vacillating 
words are those of men without power, authority, light, or 
knowledge. The final decision, whenever it comes, is from 
the Queen in council," echoing the sentence which popular 
tumult may dictate, and narrowing by each successive decision 
the amount of positive belief and of Christian practice ; now 
lopping off a sacrament, now mutilating the liturgy, now deny- 
ing some ancient and hitherto accepted point of Christian faith 
as not necessarily involved or enforced in the formularies of 
the Church of England," now dissolving some indissoluble bond 
which God himself made, constantly insisting on the wise 
latitude and toleration of the Church," but never by any chance 
asserting a single dogma of belief, or maintaining a single point 
of ancient Christian morality ; so that no man knows what to 
believe or what he is strictly obliged to do. The Catholic 
Church, on the other hand, comes out on a question affecting 
the existence of God, Heaven, the Revelation of Scripture, the 
Divinity of Jesus Christ. She gives to the Church on this or 
that article of faith language as clear as a bell — language so 
clear and decided that every child may know w^hat God has 
revealed ; that this is what God teaches, this is the truth. But 
the Man of the Day " says : What right has the Church to 
impose this on you? Are you not a slave to believe it ? " I 
answer at once : " If it be a lie, you are a slave to believe it. 
If it be not a lie, but the truth — in the very belief of it, then, — 
in the knowledge of it, — lies your freedom, according to the 
words of Christ : ' You shall know the truth, and the truth shall 
make you free.' " 

The whole question hinges upon this : Has the Church the 
power and the authority to teach you what is the truth? She 



84 



The Catholic CJiurch 



at once falls back upon the Scriptures and lays her hand upon 
the words of Jesus Christ, saying, " Go and teach all nations ; 
teach them all truth ; I will send the Spirit of Truth upon you 
to abide with you, and I, M}^self, will be with you all days to 
the end of the world ; and the Gates of Hell, — that is to say, 
the spirit of error, — shall never, never, never prevail against My 
Church ! " If that be true, the whole question is settled. If 
that word be true — if Jesus Christ be the God of Truth, as we 
know Him to be — then the whole controversy is at an end. He 
commands us to hear the Church, to accept her teachings, to 
grasp them, being the truth, with our minds, as though we 
heard them immediately from the lips of our Lord God Him- 
self, who is the very quintessence of truth and of intellectual 
freedom ; for intellectual freedom lies in a knowledge of the 
truth. x\nd now, let me give you a familiar proof of this. Let 
me suppose now, that, instead of being what I am — a Catholic 
priest and a monk — that I was (God between us and harm !) a 
Methodist, a Presbyterian, or that I was a Baptist, an Anabap- 
tist, or anything of that kind, or a Quaker, or a Shaker, or any- 
thing else you like. And suppose that I came here, a man of a 
certain amount of intellect and of originality, and that I had taken 
up, or that I had dreamt, last night, some crooked view of the 
Scriptures, and that I said in my own mind, Well, perhaps, 
after all, Christ did not die on the cross ; perhaps, that was one 
of those fictions that we find in history ;" and that I then came 
up here, on this altar, and put that lie plausibly and forcibly be- 
fore you, and told you how many other lies Avere thus told — how 
this thing was proved to be false, and that thing Avas proved 
to be false — and that then I said to you, "What evidence have 
w^e of the crucifixion of our Lord but historical evidence? Per- 
haps, after all, it was only a myth." When we look into our- 
selves, and see how much there is in us of evil and how little of 
good, and then think of Christ coming to die for us and save us ! 
— indeed, they say, there is a question whether He came at all 
or not. If I Avere only to put that question plausibly to }'ou, 
what is to hinder me from deceiving you ? What is to hinder 
me, if I am able to do it eloquently and forcibly? What is to 
save some of you from being imposed upon, and some of }'ou 
from believing me ? You are at my mercy, so far as I can raise 
a doubt in your minds. I can put an intellectual chain upon 



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85 



you. You are at my mercy, and I am at the mercy of my own 
idle dreams. Well, let us take things as they are. I came here 
as a Catholic priest, to you, who are Catholics. If I were here, 
this evening, to breathe one breath — one word — against the real 
presence of our Lord, or against the infallibility of the pope, or 
against the indefectibility of the Church, or against the power 
of the priest to absolve from sin, or any other doctrine of the 
Catholic Church — if I was just to approach it with the faintest 
touch, is there a man amongst you — is there one in this church 
— who would not rise up and say, You lie ! You are a heretic ! 
You are a false teacher! You are a heathen and an infidel!" 
If I dared to do it, could I have the slightest influence on any 
one of you ? No. And why ? Because you know the truth. Why ? 
Because the Church of God has thrown the shield of dogma 
between you and every false teacher — between you and every 
. one who would try to make you believe a lie. Isn't this freedom ? 

Some time ago, a poor man from the county Galway — my own 
county — went over t-o England, to earn the rent by reaping the 
harvest. He happened to go into a Protestant church, thinking 
it was Catholic, and everything that he saw there confirmed him 
in the idea ; for, as it was a ritualistic church, he saw the altar, 
the tabernacle, the lights, the vestments, everything, in fact, 
apparently Catholic. Our poor friend said his prayers, and felt 
quite at his ease and at home, until the sermon began, when, to 
his great astonishment, he heard the preacher insisting on our 
Lord's presence in the Blessed Sacrament, and at the same time 
lament the want of belief in this mystery, especially on the part 
of so many bishops and priests. The preacher went on to speak 
of our belief in Christ's presence as if it were an act of piety 
rather than of absolute necessity and faith. The moment the Irish 
Catholic heard the strange lament over the bishops and priests, 
and the hesitating, faltering, almost apologetic assertion of the 
mystery, he picked up his hat and made for the door, for he at 
once understood that he was in a Protestant and not a Catholic 
church. Now, I ask you, who was the. free man in that church? 
Was it not the man whose intelligence, humble as he was, un- 
educated as he was in worldly learning, but with the knowledge 
of the Catholic Church in his soul — was it not he whose intelli- 
gence instantly rose up and detected the false religion by his 
knowledge of the true ? Need I say any more ? Before I end 



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The Catholic Church 



I will come to vindicate the Church, my mother, as is my duty, 
from any charge of ever fostering slavery, or of ever rivetting 
one fetter upon the intelligence of man. But I think I have so 
far sufficiently brought it home to the intellect of every one 
amongst you that if the knowledge of the truth, the possession 
of the truth, the grasping of the truth, creates freedom of the 
intellect, according to the definition of it by the word of our Lord 
and Saviour, Jesus Christ — that man alone can have that free- 
dom who receives the truth, knowing it to be the truth, from 
the mouth of one whom Christ, the Son of God, declares could 
never teach man a lie. 

But, now, we pass to the second great stronghold of freedom 
or of slavery in the soul of man ; and that is, the will. For, you 
know that, strictly speaking, the will of man — that free will that 
God gives us — is really and truly the subject-matter either of 
freedom or of slavery. If a man has the freedom of his will he is 
free ; if a man's will is coerced he is a slave. But when is that 
will coerced ? What is the definition of the word " freedom," 
so far as it touches human will? I answer at once, and define 
the freedom of the human will to be, on the one side, obedience 
to recognized and just law, and, on the other side, freedom from 
overruling or coercing action of any authority, or of any power 
that is not legitimately appointed to govern and rule the will. 
We are bound to obey the laws and legitimate authorities that 
govern us, nor is there in this obedience anything unworthy of 
freedom, seeing that law and authority are the protectors of our 
rights and liberties. But we are slaves if we are bound to ob- 
serve laws that are, in themselves, unjust — laws that involve an 
immoral act ; and no man but a slave obeys them. Thus, for 
instance, if the law of the land tells me that what I have heard 
from any one of my Catholic children at the confessional, I am 
to go and make a deposition of — that is, use it as evidence 
against him ; if the law said that (and the law has sometimes 
said it), the Catholic priest knows, and every Catholic knows, 
that the observance of that law would make a slave of the 
priest ; it would destroy his overruling conscience, that dictates 
to his will, so that if he observed that law he would be a slave ; 
but if he died rather than observe it he would be a martyr and 
an apostle of freedom. Secondly, the freedom of the will lies 
in being free from every influence, from every coercing power 



The Mother of Liberty. 



that has no right or title to command our wills. Who has a 
right to command the will of man ? Almighty God, who made 
it. Every human law has authority only inasmuch as it is the 
echo of the eternal voice, commanding or prohibiting. I will 
only obey the law because St. Paul tells us the law comes from 
on high" — that all power, all law, comes from Almighty God. 
Any other power that is opposed to God has nothing whatever 
to say to the will of man, and if the will of man submits to the 
persuasion or coercion of that power, by that very fact it be- 
comes a slave. 

Now, what are the great powers that assert themselves in 
this our age upon the will of man ? What are the great 
powers that make slaves of us ? I answer, they are the world 
around us and its principles — our own passions within us, and 
our sinful inclinations. Reflect upon it ! We live in a world 
that has certain principles, that lays down certain maxims and 
acts upon them. The world has its own code of laws. For 
instance, a man is insulted. The world tells him to go, take a 
revolver, and wipe out the insult in the blood of the man who 
dared to insult him. This is the world's law, but it is opposed 
to God's law, which says, Love your enemies, and pardon 
them for my sake !" The world says to a man, ''You are in a 
good position ; you have place, power, influence, patronage ; 
you have it in your power to enrich yourself. Ah ! don't be so 
squeamish ; don't be so mealy-mouthed ; shove a friend in 
here. Let a man have a chance of taking up his own pickings. 
Put another man to do the same there. Take something for 
yourself." The world says this, and I believe you have evi- 
dence of it every other day. The w^orld says to the man of 
pleasure: ''You are fond of certain sins of impurity. Ah, but, 
my dear friend, you must keep that thing very quiet. Keep it 
under the rose as long as you can. There is no great harm in 
it. It is only the weakness of our nature. You may go on 
and enjoy yourself as much as you choose ; only be circum- 
spect about it. Keep it as quiet as possible, and do not let 
your secret be found out." The great sin is being found out. 
This is the way of the world. It thus operates upon men. It 
thus influences our will, and makes us bow down and conform 
to the manners and customs of those around us. Plow true 
this is ! Is there anything more common ? I have heard 



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TJie Catholic CJniJ'ch 



it over and over again since I came to America : " Oh, 
father, we are very different in this countr}- from what we 
were in the old countr}-. In the matter of going to Mass 
in this country on Sunday, you cannot go unless you afe 
well-dressed. In the old country they go, no matter how 
they are. In this country people would look on it as queer if 
you did not go as well-dressed as your neighbor. In the old 
countr}- they were ver}^ particular about stations, and about 
going to confession. They used all to go to their duty at 
Christmas and Easter — and often more frequentty — but in this 
countr}- scarcely an}-bod}- goes at all." This is the language I 
have heard. It is not uncommon. Now, what does all this 
mean ? What has this country or that, this portion of the 
world or that, this maxim of the world or that — what has it to 
do with your will ? Where, in reason — where, in faith — where, 
in Scripture, can you find me one word from Almighty God to 
man : " Son of man, do as those around }-ou do : conform your 
life to the usages of the world around you — to the maxims of 
the world in which you live." But Christ has said: Be not 
conformed to this world, for the friendship of this world is 
enmity before God." The passions within us — oh I those ter- 
rible passions ! the strong, the unreasoning, the lustful desires 
of youth — the strong, unreasoning, revengeful pride of man — 
the strong, unreasoning desire to be enriched before his time b}' 
means which are accursed — the strong passions within him, 
whatever they ma}- be, that rise up, like giants, in his path — 
ah, these are the most terrible tyrants of all, when the}- assume 
dominion over man — and, above all, when the}^ assume the 
aggravated and detestable dominion of habit. Let me sa}^ a 
word to you about this. There is not a man amongst us who 
hasn't his own little world of iniquity within him. Not one ! 
There is not a man amongst us, even of those .who are within 
the sanctuar}^ that must not work out his salvation with fear 
and trembling. And why? Because he has great enemies in 
his own passions. Now, the Almighty God's design is that 
those passions should become complete!}^ subject to the domin- 
ion of reason by the free will of man. So long as man is able 
to keep them down, to subdue them — so long as a man is able 
to keep himself humble, pure, chaste, temperate, in spite of 
them, that man is free, because he controls and keeps dovrn 



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89 



those servants, his passions, which the Ahnighty God never 
intended should govern him. Now, the intention of Almighty 
God is that we should keep down those passions. The second 
intention of Almighty God is, therefore, that if they rise — as 
rise they do, in many cases — and, for a time, overpower the 
soul, and induce a man to commit this sin or that — that he 
must at once rise up out of that sin, put down that passion, and 
chain it down under the dominion of reason and will, fortified 
by divine grace ; because if he lets it remain, and allows it to 
subdue him, and seduce him into sin again, in an inconceivably 
short time that passion will become the habit and the tyrant of 
his life. For instance, if a man gets drunk, if so, I ask that 
man and say: ]\Iy dear friend, \.ry to recall the first 
time you got drunk. Do you remember next miorning what 
state your head was in ? A splitting as if it would go asunder. 
You felt that you would give half of all you were worth for a 
drink of water. Your tongue was dry and parched, and a 
coarse fur on it. How you got up in the morning and did not 
know what to do with yourself for the whole day, going about 
here and there, and afraid to eat, your stomach being so sick ; 
afraid to lie down, and not able to remain up or go to work; 
moaning and shaking, and not able to get over the headache of 
the preceding night. That was the first time, and you made 
vows it should be the last. Next day a friend came along and 
said: " Let us go out and take a glass of toddy!" He wants 
you to take medicine. I remember once I heard of a man in 
this particular state, and when he saAV brandy and water before 
him, he said: ''No, sir; I would rather take Epsom salts." 
And why ? Because the habit is not yet formed ; the habit is 
not yet confirmed. But go on, my friend. Don't mind that. 
When that headache and that first sickness goes away, go on, 
and after a while, when you have learned to drink, the head- 
ache does not trouble you any more ; you get used to it ; the 
poison assimilates to the system ; but the habit is come, the 
physical weakness is gone, and the habit of sin is come. Now, 
I would like to see you, if you were drunk yesterday evening, 
to be able to resist " taking your morning." You could not do 
it ! I have seen a man — I was at his bedside — and the doctor was 
there, after taking him over six long days of delirium tremens, 
and the doctor said to him : ''As sure as God created you, if 



90 



TJie Catholic Church 



you take brandy or whiskey for the next week you will be a 
dead man I it will kill you!" I was present. I Avas trying to 
see if the poor fellow would go to confession. There was the 
bottle of brandy ; it stood near him on the table ; for they had 
had to give him brandy. And while the doctor was yet speak- 
ing to him, I saw his eyes fastened on it, and the hand creeping 
up towards it ; and if ever you saw a hungry horse or mule 
looking at oats, it was he, when, with his eyes devouring the 
bottle, he reached out, clutched it, and put it to his head, after 
hearing that, as surely as God made him, so surely would he 
die if he drank of it ! He could not help it. Where, then, 
was that man's freedom? It had perished in the habit of sin. 
Look at Holofernes, as we read of him in Scripture — the pro- 
fane, the impure man ! What does the Scripture say of him ? 
That when Judith came into his tent, the moment he looked 
upon her, the moment he cast his eyes upon the woman, he 
loved her. He could not help it. His senses had enslaved 
him. His will ! He had no will. Speak to me of the freedom 
of the will of a thirsty animal going to the water to drink, and 
I believe it. Speak to me of the freedom of will of a raging lion, 
hungering for days, and seeing food and leaving it, and I will be- 
lieve in it as soon as I believe in the freedom of the will of the 
man who has enslaved himself in the habit of sin ! Therefore, 
Almighty God intends either that we should be free from sin, 
altogether, keeping down the habit of all those passions, or, if 
they, from time to time, rise up, taking us unawares, taking us 
off our feet, not to yield to them, but to chain them down 
again, and not, by indulgence, to make them grow into habits. 
Now, the essence of freedom in the will of man lies not in the 
restraint of legitimate authority, but in the freedom from all 
care, and from those powers and influences that neither God, 
nor man, nor society intended should influence or govern his 
will. Here I come home again to the subject of my lecture. 
Now, I invite you again to consider where shall we find the 
means of emancipating our will from these passions and other 
bad influences. Where shall we find the means ? Will knowl- 
edge do it ? No. Will faith do it ? No. It is a strange thing 
to say, but knowledge, no matter how extensive, no matter 
how profound, gives no command over the passions ; no intel- 
lectual motives influence them. " Were it for me," says a 



The MotJicr of Liberty. 



91 



great orator of the present day, Dr. Wilbcrforce, in his Earn- 
est Cry for a Reformation ;" when you can moor a vessel 
with a thread of silk, then you may hope to elevate this human 
knowledge, and, by human reason, to tie down and restrain 
those giants — the passions and the pride of man." I know as 
much of the law of God as any amongst you — more, probably, 
than many — for we are to teach. Does my knowledge save me 
from sin ? Will that knowledge keep me in the observance of 
the sacred vows I took at the altar of God ? Is it to that 
knowledge that I look for the power and strength within me to 
keep every sinful passion down in sacerdotal purity — every 
grovelling desire down in monastic poverty — every sin — every 
feeling of pride down, in religious obedience ? Is it to my 
knowledge I look for that power ? No ! I might know as 
much as St. Augustine and yet be imperfect. I might be a 
Pilate in atrocity and yet as proud a man ! There is another 
question involving the great necessity of keeping down these 
passions. I would like to know where, in history, you could 
find a single evidence of knowledge restraining the passions of 
man, and purifying him ? No ; the grace of God is necessary 
— the grace of God coming through fixed specific channels to 
the soul. The actual participation of the holiness and the 
infinite sanctity of Christ is necessary. Where is that to be 
found that will save the young from sin, and save the sinner 
from the slavery of the habit of sin ? Where is that to be found 
which will either tie down the passions altogether, or, if they 
occasionally rise up, put them down again and not allow them 
to grow into the gigantic tyrannical strength of habit ? Where, 
but in the Catholic Church? Take, for example, the Sacrament 
of Penance. These children are taught, with the opening of 
reason, their duty to God. You may say the Church is very 
unreasonable because, to-day, she tells you that she will not 
allow these children to go to your common-schools, or to any 
other schools where they are not taught of God — where they 
are not taught the holiness of God, the things of God, the 
influence of God, mixed up with ever>^ addition of knowledge 
that comes to their minds. You may say the Church is unrea- 
sonable in that. No ! because she tries to keep them from sin ! 
She tries to give them the strength that will bind these passions 
down, so as to make moral men, truthful men, pure-minded 



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The CatJiolic Church 



men of them — and to give them complete victory, if possible, 
over these passions. But if, as age comes on, as temptations 
come on, if the Catholic man goes and gets drunk — if the 
Catholic man falls into any sin, this or that one, at once the 
Church comes before him, and at the moment he crosses the 
threshold of the sanctuaiy, and his eyes fall upon the confes- 
sional, that moment he is reminded of the admonition, Come 
to me I come to me I and Avash your soul in the blood of the 
Lamb! Come and tell your sin!" The very consciousness of 
the knowledge of having to confess that sin; the humiliation 
of being obliged to tell it in all its details — to tell it with so 
much self-accusation, and sense of self-degradation for having 
committed it — is, in itself, a strong check to prevent it, and a 
strong, powerful influence, even humanly speaking, against 
again falling into it, or repeating it. As the confessional saves 
from the tyranny of the passions, and, above all, breaks up the 
means, and does not allow the habit of sin to become a second 
nature in the life of man, what is the consequence? The 
Catholic man, if he only observes his religion, if he only exer- 
cises himself in its duties, if he only goes to confession, if he 
only partakes in its sacraments and uses them ; the Catholic 
man is free in his will by Divine grace as he is free in his intelli- 
gence by love. Knowledge of the truth is freedom of the in- 
tellect — freedom from every agency, from every power that 
might control the freedom of the will — and that is effected by 
Divine grace. So far, we have seen that Almighty God has re- 
produced in the Church the elements of true freedom. I do 
not say that the Catholic Church was the mother " of human 
freedom. I said she was ''the foster-mother;" for, to use a 
familiar phrase, we are literally and truly put out, as it were, by 
the Church. The freedom which we possess came to us, not 
from the Church, but from God. He came down from heaven, 
after man had been four thousand years in sin — after man had 
lost his noble inheritance of knowledge, of light, of freedom, 
and power and self-restraint. He came in the darkness ; and 
he gave the light. He came in slavery; and he gave freedom. 
Having thus restored in man what he lost in Adam, He then, 
as He Himself tells us, in the parable of the good Samaritan, 
gave us to the Church, and said : "Take care of this race ; pre- 
serve them in this light of knowledge and freedom of truth. 



TJic Mot Jut of Liberty. 



93 



Preserve them till I come back again, and I will pay thee well 
for thy care !" Now, my friends, if there were one here to- 
night Avho is not a Catholic, he might smile in his own soul and 
say: "This friar is a very cunning fellow. He dresses up 
things plausibly enough so long as he is arguing in the clouds 
about freedom, and the elements of freedom, and the soil of 
freedom. Oh, he is quite at home there ! Ah, but when he 
comes down from the clouds to find how this Church, this terri- 
ble Church, this enslaving Church, has dealt with society, then let 
him look out ! Then let us hear what he has to say for himself!" 

Again, what are those charges that are laid against the 
Catholic Church ? The first charge alleged against her is that 
she does not allow people to read every'thing that is published. 
It is quite true. If the Church had her will, there are a great 
many books, that are considered now by many people \^ry nice 
reading, that would all be put in the fire. I acknowledge that ; 
I admit it. Tell me, my friends — and are there not a great 
many fathers of families among you ? — if one of you found 
with his little boy some blackguard book, some filthy, vile, im- 
moral book, would you let your child read it? Would you con- 
sider that you were enslaving his mind by taking that book from 
him and putting it in the fire before his face? If you found 
one of your sons reading some w^ry beautiful passage of Vol- 
taire, in which he makes a laughing-stock of faith, and tries to 
raise a laugh against Christ on the cross, would you consider 
you were doing badly for your child — would you consider your- 
self enslaving him — by taking that book from him and putting 
it in the fire ? 

Now, this is what the Catholic Church does. She declares 
that people have no right to read that which is against faith 
and morals ; that which is against the truth of Christ — that 
which is against the divinity of Christ — that in which the 
pride of the unregenerated mind of man rises up and says : 

I will not believe !" And, not content with this, he writes 
a book, and tries to make everybody beHeve and say the 
same thing. The Church says : " Don't read it." There are 
some whom she allows to read it. She lets me read it. She 
lets my fellow-priests read it. Sometimes she even obliges us 
to read it. Wh}^ ? Because she knows we have knowledge 
enough to see the falsity of it, and she alloAvs us to read it that 



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TJie CatJwlic Church 



we may refute it. She does not allow you to read it. And 
why? I do not care to flatter you, my friends. Nothing is 
more commonly used to lead people astray than a plausible lie. 
I declare to you that although I think the truth is great and 
must prevail," that if I had my choice given to me, and I could 
do it without sin — if it were given to me to come out and try to 
enforce the truth, or to make you believe a lie — I really believe 
I would be able sooner to do the second ; it is so much easier 
for us to flatter — ^especially with a lie to flatter your pride — to 
tell you you are the finest fellows in the world — to tell you you 
must not be governed by a certain class — that you must not be 
paying taxes — that you have no right to support an army and 
navy — that you have no right to pay a class of men to govern 
you — and thus they go on, playing into your hands, your love 
of money and your love of yourself. There is no lie among the 
whole catalogue of lies that, if I were like them, I would not 
tell you — and I could make you believe it. The Church says 
there is, in a certain book, an immoral lesson or a lie, and I will 
not allow my children to read it. There are books published, 
and I have seen them in the hands of Protestant boys and girls, 
and the very Pope of Rome has not leave to read them. They 
are books that contain direct appeals to immorality, direct ap- 
peals to the passions — books against both faith and morals, that 
the Church does not allow to be read by any one. But is this 
slavery? But the argument against Catholicity is that the men 
who make scientific discoveries — the men who said that the world 
was round, for instance — men who said that the world was 
round, when it was generally believed to be a great flat plain, 
were put in prison. There is one answer to that : there is not 
a single instance in history of the Church joining issue with any 
minister on any purely scientific subject, and persecuting him 
for it. If there was not any question of faith or morals in- 
volved, she bid him God speed !" and told him to go on with 
his discoveries if there was anything useful in them, and noth- 
ing hostile to religion in them. I will give you an instance : 
In the sixth century there was an Irish saint who was called 
Virgilius — (in his own country his name was Feargil) — and this 
man was a great Culdee monk, and a great scholar. The result 
of his speculations was that he became satisfied in his own mind 
that this world was a globe — round — as it is — and that there 



The Mother of Liberty. 



95 



must, therefore, be an antipodes — one on this side and one on 
the other side, and that there must be seas between one land 
and another. He announced this, and it came among the scien- 
tific men of the day, and fell amongst them, really and truly, 
as if a bomb-shell had burst at their feet. The scholars of 
the day, the universities of the day, appealed to Rome against 
him for having pronounced so fearful a theory ; they said it was 
heresy. What did the pope do ? Remember, you can consult 
the authorities for yourselves. I can give you chapter and verse 
if you want them. What did that pope do ? He summoned 
this man to Rome. He said, You are charged with a strange 
doctrine — with saying that the world is a sphere — a globe. Tell 
us all about it !" He did so. What answer did Feargil get ? The 
pope took him by the hand : My dear friend," he said, go on 
with your astronomical discoveries," — and he made him Arch- 
bishop of Salzburg, and sent him home with a mitre on his 
head. This is how the Catholic Church dealt with intellectual 
liberty when that intellectual liberty did not claim for itself any- 
thing bad, and was void of anything that interfered with or was 
opposed to Christian faith or morals. Do you wish to make us 
out slaves because we ought not to get a knowledge of evil? 
One of the theories of the day is that it is better to let little 
boys and girls read everything, good and bad ; to know every- 
thing. Is it better ? Do you think you know better than Al- 
mighty God? There was one tree in the garden of Eden, and 
Almighty God gave a commandment to Adam and Eve, that they 
should neither taste of it nor touch it. What tree was it? It 
was the ''tree of knowledge of good and evil." Did Almight}^ 
God intend to exclude from Adam the knowledge of good? 
No ; but He intended to exclude from him the fatal knowledge 
of evil. A prohibition against reading a very bad book was the 
first and only prohibition that Almighty God gave to the first 
man. '' Don't touch that tree," said He, because if you do 
you will come to the knowledge of that which is evil." '' When 
ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wise." So says Pope. 

Now, my friends, who are they that make this charge against 
the Catholic Church, that she enslaves her children ? Who are 
they that tell us that the historical mother of all the great uni- 
versities in the old world is afraid of knowledge ? Wlio are 
they who tell us that the Church, whose monks, in their cloisters, 



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The Catholic Church 



preserved art and science for a thousand years — preserved all 
the ancient relics that we have of ecclesiastical learning, and of 
the learning of Greece and Rome — who are they who tell us 
that the Church^ that set her monks, her alchemists, and stu- 
dents experimentalizing in their cloisters in the Aliddle Ages, 
until most of what are called the modern discoveries were made 
or anticipated by them — who are they who tells us that the 
Church is the enemy of light and knowledge and of freedom ? 
Who are they ? They are the Freemasons of the day I Free- 
masons. 

Now, you will allow me, if you please, to retort the assertion 
on my friends, the Masons — Mazzini and Garibaldi and Bis- 
marck — for all these are Freemasons. They all say, " Oh, let 
us wash our hands clean of this old institution — the Catholic 
Church. She would make slaves of us all. We must give the 
people freedom; we must give them liberty." And then they 
lay on taxation. Then they tell ever}^ citizen in the land that 
he must lay aside his spade and become a soldier. They tell 
every man, eighteen years of age, that he is to fight for freedom ; 
and they thrust him into the army. Call you this freedom ? 
Yet this is what they give for the liberty of the Church ! Are 
they free themselves, these Freemasons ? I will give you one 
answer — and one is as good as a thousand. Last December 
tAvelvemonthj Avhen I was in the city of Dublin, a man came to 
me. He had attended a series of sermons I was preaching in 
our church there. He was an intellectual, a well-educated man. 
He came to me, and said, I ought to be a Catholic ; but the 
fact of it is, I have been so long away from the sacraments and 
everything religious, that I can scarcely say I am, even in name, 
a Catholic. But now," he says, " I feel and I know that I 
must do something to save my soul." Well, I took him, and 
instructed him in the holy sacraments, gave him the holy com- 
munion, and sent him away. He said that he had never, for 
years upon years, known such happiness, and he went on his 
way. That man received confirmation, and was constant in his 
duty from December until the month of April. Then I waited 
for him, but, instead of his coming, he wrote a letter to me. 
" ^ly Rev. friend," he said, " you will, no doubt, be disappointed 
to find I am not coming to you on Saturday. The fact of it is, 
I cannot come. I find that I cannot shake off Freemasonry. I 



The Mother of Liberty, 



97 



have got several notices from my Masonic brethren that I must 
either adhere to them or give up my religion. My religion has 
brought me more happiness than I ever experienced in my life, 
and it is with bitter regret I tell you, that my business is falling 
off ; that they are turning away my customers from me — and 
they tell me they will bring me to a beggar's grave — a wretched 
end ; and they can and will do it. Therefore, I hope you will 
not forget me ; but I must give up the happiness I have had I" 
Was that man free, I ask you ? Who are the men who turn 
round and tell me, " I am not free? " — who tell me, I am not 
free," because, indeed, I am not fettered like a slave, bound by 
every filthy passion ! Who are they that tell me, I am not 
free," because I do not, of my own free will, incline myself and 
pollute my mind with every species of evil and impurity ? Who 
are they who tell me I am not free because in the Church I have 
to believe that what she teaches is true ? But I tell them it is 
true. Who are the gentlemen who told my friend that, at the 
peril of his life, he must return to them, and give up his religion ? 
These are the men who turn round, now-a-days, and tell us that 
in the Catholic Church a man is not free! But this is the 
Church that has brought me from the slavery of sin into the 
freedom of God, and the glorious liberty of an heir of heaven. 
As long as you pursue any scientific research, as long as you 
extend your mind in any legitimate, healthy, moral course of 
literature, or in any intellectual pursuit, you have the blessing 
and encouragement of the Church upon you. Don't mind the 
world if it call you a slave. If you come to a certain point, if 
you read certain books, the Church says you must become either 
an impure man or an infidel. Don't read them, in God's name I 
It is not slavery for the intellect to repudiate a lie. It is not 
slavery for the will to reject that which, if once accepted, asserts 
the dominion of the slavery of sin and of habit over the souls of 
men. This do I say with truth, that our mother, the Church, in 
the principles which our Lord established, in her daily sacerdotal 
exercises, is the foster-mother of human freedom. It is a his- 
torical and a remarkable fact, that the kings of Europe — the 
King of Spain, the Emperor of Germany, the King of England, 
the King of France — exercised the most absolute and irre- 
sponsible power precisely at the time when the Catholic Church 
was weakened in her influence over them b}' the heresy of 



98 



The Catholic Church 



Martin Luther. It is most remarkable that so absolute in Eng- 
land was Henry the Eighth (and never was there a king whose 
absolute manner of governing and whose conduct recalls more 
the days of the Grand Turk) that he married a woman to-day, 
he killed her to-morrow, and who was to call him to account ? 
So absolute a king could not have done this as a Catholic, and 
he threw aside his allegiance. If a Catholic king had done these 
things — if Henry's father had done them — if any one of Henry's 
Catholic predecessors had done it, his excommunication would 
have come from Rome. He would have been afraid of his life 
to do it. He would have been afraid of the pope. What was 
this but securing the people's liberty? Thus do we see, that so 
long as the Catholic religion had power to exercise, and exer- 
cised that power, she exercised that power to coerce kings into 
justice, into respect for their subjects, and for law, for property, 
and for life. This is a historical fact, that the Tudors assumed 
an absolute sovereignty as soon as they shook off the pope, and 
declared to the people that they were the lords and rulers of the 
consciences, as well as of the civil obedience of men. We also 
know that Gustavus, the Protestant King of Sweden, assumed 
absolute power. We also know that that power grew into iron 
fetters under Charles the Fifth, who, though not a Protestant 
himself, but a good Catholic, yet governed a people who were 
divided in their principles of allegiance, and he forsook the 
world for the Church. We can bring home, history to prove 
that the weakening of the Catholic Church in her temporal 
power over society has been the cause of the assumption of 
more power, more absolute dominion, and more tyrannical ex- 
ercise of that dominion on the part of every ruler in Europe — 
and, therefore, I say that, historically, as well as in principle, 
the Catholic Church is the foster-mother of human liberty. 
And now, my friends, you will be able, by word of mouth, to 
answer all those who call you slaves because you are CathoHcs. 
You may as well call a man a slave because he obeys his father. 
You may as well say the child is a slave because there are cer- 
tain laws and rules that govern him. You may as well say that 
the citizen is a slave, because he acknowledges the power of 
the State to legislate for him, and he bows to the power of that 
legislation. 




"THE CHURCH, THE MOTHER 
AND INSPIRATION OF ART." 



[Pronounced on Sunday evening, March loth, 1872, on the occasion of the com- 
pletion of the Dominican Church of St. Vincent Ferrer, in Lexington Avenue, New 
York, of which Very Rev. M. A. Lilley, O. P., is pastor.] 

EARLY beloved brethren : This morning I told you 
that the Holy Catholic Church was the spouse of the 
Lord Jesus Christ, described to us in Scripture as 
endowed with a twofold beauty, namely, interior, of 
which the Psalmist says, " All the beauty of the king's daughter 
is from within," and exterior, of which he spoke when he said, 
''The queen stood at His right hand, in golden garb, surrounded 
with variety." We saw, moreover, this morning, that the inte- 
rior beauty and ineffable loveliness of the Church consists, above 
all, in this, that she holds enshrined in her tabernacles the Lord, 
the Redeemer of the world, as the Blessed Virgin Mary% His 
mother, held Him in her arms in Bethlehem, as the cross sup- 
ported Him on Mount Calvary ; that she possesses His ever- 
lasting truth which He left as her inheritance, and which it is 
her destiny not only to hold, but to proclaim and propagate to 
all the nations ; and, finally, that she holds in her hands the 
sacramental power and agencies by which souls are sanctified, 
purified, and saved. In these three features we saw the beauty 
of the Church of God ; in these three we beheld how the mys- 
tery of the Incarnation is perpetuated in her ; for Christ our Lord 
did not forever depart from earth, but, according to His own 
word, came back and remained. I will not leave you orphans," 
he said, '' but I will come to you again, and I will remain with 
you all days, even to the consummation of the world." We see 
in these three wonderful features of the Church's interior beaut}- 




100 



TJic CJuircJi, the Mother 



how she is truly "The city of the Living God," The abode of 
grace and hoHness; " and, therefore, that all the majesty, all the 
beauty, all the material grandeur which it is in our power to in- 
vest her with, it becomes our duty to give to her, that she 
may thus appear before the eyes of men a fitting tabernacle for 
our Divine Lord Himself. We have seen, moreover, how the 
Church of God, acting upon the instincts of her divinely infused 
life and perpetual charity, has always endeavored to attest and 
to proclaim her faith by surrounding the object of that faith, 
her God, with all that earth holds as most precious and most 
dear. I then told you (if you remember) this morning, that the 
subject for our evening's consideration would be the exterior 
beauty of the Holy Church of God — some other features that 
belong to her, distinct from, though not independent of, the 
three great singular graces of God's abiding presence, of God's 
infallible truth, and of the unceasing stream of sacramental grace 
that, through her, flows onward ; those features of divine external 
beauty which we recognize upon the face of our Holy Mother, 
the Church. Therefore, dearly beloved, the things that are in- 
dicated by the exterior garb with which the prophet invested 
the spouse of Christ : " The queen stood on thy right hand in 
golden garb, surrounded with variety" — every choicest gem, 
every celestial form of beauty embroidered upon the heavenly 
clothing of Heaven's Queen, every rarest jewel let into the set- 
ting of that golden garment, every brightest color shining forth 
upon her — what is this exterior beauty of the Church? I an- 
swer, that it consists in many things — in many influences — in the 
many ways in which she has acted upon society. Ever faithful 
to the cause of God and to the cause of humanity ; ever faithful 
to the heavenly trust, after more than eighteen hundred years 
of busy life, she stands to-day, before the world ; and no man 
can fix upon her virgin brow the shame of deception, the shame 
of cruelty, the shame of the denial of the food of man's real life, 
the Word of Truth. No man can put upon her the taint of dis- 
honor, of a compromise with hell or with error, or with any 
power that is hostile to the sovereignty of God or to the inter- 
ests of man. Many, indeed, are the ways in which the Church 
of God has operated upon society. Of these many ways I have 
selected as the subject for our evening's illustration, the power 
existing in the Catholic Church, and attested by undoubted his- 



Aiid Inspiration of Art. 



lOI 



torical evidence — the power which she exercised as the Mother 
and inspirer of the fine arts. And here let me first of all say, that, 
besides the useful and necessary arts which occupy men in their 
daily life — the arts that consist in maintaining the essential 
necessaries and in providing the comforts of life — the arts that 
result in smoothing away all the difficulties that meet us in our 
path in life, as far as the hand of man can materially effect this 
— besides these useful and necessary arts — there are others which 
are not necessary for our existence, nor, perhaps, even for our 
comfort — but are necessary to meet the spiritual cravings and 
aspirations of the human soul, and that fling a grace around 
ourselves. There are arts and sciences which elevate the mind, 
soothe the heart, and captivate the understanding and the im- 
agination of man. These are called "the Fine Arts." For in- 
stance : it is not necessary for your life or mine, that our eyes 
should rest with pleasure upon some beautiful painting. With- 
out that we could live. Without that we could have all that is 
necessary for our existence — for our daily comfort. Yet, how 
refining, how invigorating, how pleasing to the eye, and to the 
soul to which that eye speaks, is the language that speaks to us 
silently, yet eloquently, as from the lips of a friend, from works 
of architecture, or sculpture, or painting. It is not necessary 
for our lives, nor for the comfort of our lives, if you will, that 
our ears should be charmed with the sweet notes of melodious 
music ; but is there one amongst us that has not, at some time 
or other, felt his soul within him soothed, and the burden of his 
sorrow lightened, the pleasure he enjoyed increased and enhanced, 
when music, with its magic spell, fell upon his ear ? It is not neces- 
sary for our lives that our eyes should be charmed with the sight 
of some grand, majestic building ; but who amongst us is there who 
has not felt the emotion of sadness swell within him as he looked 
upon the green, ivy-clad ruin of some ancient church? Who is 
there amongst us that has not, at some time or other, felt the 
softening, refining, though saddening influences that creep over 
him when, entering within some time-honored ruin of an abbey, 
he beheld the old lance-shaped windows, through which came 
streams of sunshine like the ''light of other days," and beheld 
the ancient tracery on that which stood behind the high altar, 
and had once been filled with legends of angels and saints — but 
now open to every breeze of heaven — when he looked upon the 



102 



TJie CJnirch, tJie Mother 



place as that in which his imagination pictured to him holy bish- 
ops and mitred abbots officiating there, and offering up the un- 
bloody sacrifice, while the vaulted arches and long drawn aisles 
resounded with the loud hosannas of the long-lost monastic song ? 
Who is there amongst us who has not felt, at times, elevated, im- 
pressed, aye, filled with strong feelings of delight, as his eye 
roamed steadily and gradually up to the apex of some grand 
cathedral, resting upon niches 3f saints and angels, and gliding 
from beauty to beauty, until, at length, straining his vision, he 
beheld, high amongst the clouds of heaven, the saving sign of 
the Cross of Jesus Christ, upheld in triumph, and flinging its 
sacred shadow over the silent graves. It is thus these arts 
called the liberal, or the Fine Arts, fill a great place, and ac- 
complish a great work in the designs of God, and in the history" 
of God's Holy Church. 

My friends, the theme which I have propounded to you con- 
tains two grave truths. The first of these is this : I claim for 
the Catholic Church that she is the mother of the arts ; secondly, 
I claim for her the glor}^ that she has been and is their highest 
inspiration. What is it that forms the peculiar attraction — that 
creates the peculiar influence of art upon the soul of man, 
through his senses ? What is it that captivates the eye ? It is 
the ideal that speaks to him through art. In nature there are 
many beautiful things, and we contemplate them with joy, with 
delight. The faint blushes of the morning, as the rising sun 
climbs slowly over the eastern hills, filling the valleys with rosy 
light, and gladdening the face of nature — all this is grand, all 
this is beautiful. But in nature, because it is nature, the per- 
fectly beautiful is rarely or never found. Some one thing or 
other is wanting that would lend an additional feature of loveli- 
ness to the scene which we contemplate, or to the theme, the 
hearing of which delights us. Now, the aim of the Catholic soul 
of art is to take the beautiful wherever it is found, to abstract it 
from all that might deform it, or to add all that might be want- 
ing to its perfect beauty — to add to it every feature and ever}- 
element that can fulfill the human idea of perfect loveliness, and 
to fling over all the still higher loveliness which is caught from 
heaven. This is called " the Ideal " in art. We rarely find it 
in nature. We seek it in highest art. We look upon a picture, 
and there we behold portrayed with supreme power all the glor\^ 



And Inspiration of Art. 



103 



of the light that the sun can lend from heaven — all the glory 
of material beauty chastened, refined, and idealized by the art- 
ist's inspiration, breathing purest soul, enforcing some high 
lesson, and persuading by the spiritual influence which pervades 
the whole work. Amongst the ancient nations — the great 
fountains of the ancient civilization — Egypt, Assyria, Greece, 
and finally, Rome — during the four thousand years that went 
before the coming of the Redeemer, these arts and sciences 
flourished. We have still the remains of the Coliseum, for 
instance, in Rome, combining vastness of proportion with per- 
fect symmetry, and the mind is oppressed at the immensity of 
size, whilst the eye is charmed with the beauty of proportion. 

But in the fourth and fifth centuries — after the foundation of 
the Church had been firmly laid, after the promulgation of the 
Christian religion — when the Roman Empire had bowed down 
her imperial head before the glory of the Cross of Christ, it was 
in the designs of God that all that ancient civilization, all these 
ancient arts and sciences, should be broken up and perish. 
From Egypt, Syria, and the far East they came, and their glory 
concentrated itself in Greece — later, and most of all, in Rome. 
All the wealth of the world was gathered into Rome. All the 
glory of earth was centralized in Rome. Whatever the w^orld 
knew of painting, of sculpture, of architecture, of music, was 
found in Rome, in the highest perfection to which the ancient 
civilization had brought it. Then came the moment when the 
Church was to enter upon her second mission — that of creating 
a new world and a new civilization. Then came the moment 
when Rome and its ancient empire gravitated to a climax by 
its three hundred years of religious persecution of the Church 
of God, and her crimes were about to be expiated. Then came 
the time when God's designs became apparent. Even as the 
storm-cloud bursts forth and sweeps the earth in its resistless 
force, so, my dear friends, in these centuries of which I speak, 
from the fastnesses of the North came forth dreadful hordes of 
barbarians — men without civilization — men without religion — 
men without mercy — men without a written language — men 
without a history — men without a single refining element of 
faith amongst them ; and down they came, Goths and Visigoths, 
Huns and Vandals, onward sweeping in their resistless and 
almost countless thousands of warriors, carrying slavery and 



104 



The Church, the Mother 



destruction in their hands ; — and thus they swept over the 
Western world. Rome went down before them. All her glory 
departed ; and so the civilization of Greece and Rome was com- 
pletely destroyed. Society was overthrown, and reduced to the 
first chaotic elements of its being. Every art, every science, 
every most splendid monument of the ancient world was des- 
troyed ; and, at the close of the fifth centur}^, the work of the 
four thousand preceding years had to be done over again. 
]\Iankind was reduced to its primal elements of barbarism. 
Languages never before heard, barbaric voices, were lifted up 
in the halls of the ancient palaces of Itah' and in the forum of 
Rome. All the splendors of the Roman Empire disappeared, 
and. with them, almost every vestige of the ancient arts and 
civilization of the preceding times. No power of earth was 
able to withstand the hordes of Attila. No army Avas able to 
make front against them. All Avent doAvn before them, save and 
except one — one organization, one power in the world — one 
power founded by Christ and compacted by the very hand of 
God — founded upon an immovable foundation of knowledge 
and of truth — one power which, for divine purposes, was allowed 
a respite from persecution for a few years, in order that she 
might be able to present to the flood of barbarism that swept 
away the ancient civilization, a compact and well-formed body, 
able to react upon them, — and that power Avas the Holy Church 
of God. She boldly met the assault ; she stemmed the tide ; 
she embraced and absorbed in herself nation after nation, million 
after million of those rude children of the Northern shores and 
forests. She took them, rough and barbarous as they were, to 
her bosom ; and, at the end of the fifth centur}', the Church of 
God began her exterior, heroic mission of civilizing the world, 
and laying the foundations of modern civilization and of modern 
society. So it went on until the day when the capitol of Rome 
was shrouded in flames, and the ancient monuments of her 
pride, of her glory, and of civilization, were ruined and fell, and 
almost ever}^ vestige of the ancient arts disappeared. The 
Church, on the one hand, addressed herself, first and most 
immediately, to the Christianizing of these Northern nations. 
Therein lay her divine mission, therein lay the purpose for 
which she was created — to teach them the truths of God. 
Whilst she did this she . carefully gathered together all that 



And Inspiratioji of Art. 



105 



remained of the traditions of ancient Pagan science and art. 
Whilst all over Europe the greater part of the nations were 
enp-aeed in the war between Northern barbarism and civiliza- 

o o 

tion, and the land was one great battle-field, overflowing with 
blood, the Church gathered into her arms all that she could lay 
her hands on, of ancient literature, of ancient science and art, 
and retired with them into her cloisters. Everywhere, over the 
whole face of Europe, and in Africa and Asia — everywhere the 
monk was the one man of learning — the one man who brought 
with him, into his cloister, the devotion to God that involved 
the sacrifice of his life — the devotion to man that considers a 
neighbor's good, and makes civilization and refinement the pur- 
pose and study of his life ! Where, to-day, would be the litera- 
ture of ancient Greece and Rome, if the Church of God, the 
Catholic Church, had not gathered their remnants into her 
cloisters? Where, to-day, would be (humanly speaking) the 
very Scriptures themselves, if these monks of old had not taken 
them, and made the transcribing of them, and the multiplying 
copies of them, the business of their lives? And so, all that the 
world has of science, of art, — all that the world has of tradition 
— of music, of painting, of architecture — all that the world has 
of the arts of Greece and Rome, was treasured up for a thou- 
sand years in the cloisters of the Catholic Church ! 

And now, her twofold mission began. Whilst her preachers 
evangelized — whilst they followed the armies of the Vandal and 
the Goth, from field to field, and back to their fastnesses of the 
North — whilst they converted those rude and terrible sons of the 
forest into meek, pure-minded Christians, upon the one hand, 
on the other, the Church took and applied all the arts, all the 
sciences, all the human agencies that she had — and they were 
powerful — to the civilizing and refining of these barbarous men. 
Then it was that in the cloisters there sprang up, created and 
fostered by the Church of God, the fair and beautiful arts of 
painting, music, and architecture. I say ''created" in the 
Church. There are many amongst you as well informed as I am 
in the history of our civilization, and I ask you to consider that 
amongst the debris of the ruin of ancient Rome and of ancient 
Greece, although we possess noble monuments of the ancient 
architecture, we have but the faintest tradition of their music or 
their paintings — scarcely anything. I have visited the ruined 



io6 



The Churchy the Mother 



cities of Italy, I have stood within the walls of Ostium, at the 
mouth of the Tiber, when, after hundreds of years, for the first 
time the earth was removed, and the ancient temples were re- 
vealed again. The painting is gone, and nothing but the faint- 
est outline remains. Still less of the music of the ancients have 
we. We do not know what the music of ancient Greece or of 
ancient Rome was. All we know is, that among the ancient 
Greeks there was a dull monotone, or chorus, struck into an 
alternating strain. Of their sculpture we have abundant re- 
mains ; and, indeed, on this it may be said, that there has not 
been any modern art which has equalled, scarcely approached, 
the perfection of the ancient Grecian model. But the three 
sciences of architecture, painting, and music have all sprung 
from the cloisters of the Church. What is the source of all great 
modern song ? When the voice of the singer was hushed every- 
where else, it resounded in the Gregorian chant that pealed in 
loud hosannas through the long-drawn aisles of the ancient Cath- 
olic mediaeval churches. It first came from the mind — it came 
from out the loving heart of the holy pope, Gregory, himself a 
religious, and consecrated to God as a monk. Whence came 
the organ, the prince, the king of all instruments, the faithful 
type of Christianity — of the Christian congregation — so varied, 
yet so harmonious ; made up of a multitude of pipes and stops, 
each one differing from the other, yet all blending together into 
one solemn harmony of praise, just as you, who come in here 
before this altar, each one full of his own motives and desires — 
the young, the old — the grave, the gay — rich and poor — each 
with his own desire and experience of joy, of sorrow, or of hope 
— yet, before this altar, and within these walls, do you blead 
into one united and harmonious act of faith, of homage, and of 
praise before God. Whence came the king of instruments to 
you — so majestic in form, so grand in its volume — so symbolical 
of the worship which it bears aloft upon the wings of song? 
In the cloisters of the Benedictine monks do we hear it for 
the first time. When the tired Crusader came home from his 
Eastern wars, there did he sit down to refresh his soul with 
sacred song. There, during the solemn Mass of midnight, or 
at the Church's office at matins, whilst he heard the solemn, 
plaintive chant of the Church, whilst he heard the low-blended 
notes of the accompanying organ, skilfully touched by the Bene- 



And Inspiration of Art. 



107 



dictlne's hand — would his rugged heart be melted into sorrow, 
and the humility of Christian forgiveness. And thus it is the 
most spiritualizing and highest of all the arts and sciences — 
this heaven-born art of music. Thus did the Church of God 
make her divine and civilizing appeal, and thus her holy influ- 
ence was brought out, during those stormy and terrible times 
when she undertook the almost impossible task of humbling the 
proud, of purifying the unchaste, of civilizing the terrible, the 
fierce, and the blood-stained horde of barbarians that swept, in 
their resistless millions, over the Roman empire. 

The next great art which the Church cultivated in her clois- 
ters, and which, in truth, was created by her as it exists to-day, 
was the art of painting. Recall the circumstances of the time. 
Printing was not yet invented. Yet the people had to be in- 
structed — and not only to be instructed but influenced ; for mere 
instruction is not sufficient. The mere appeal to the power of 
faith, or to the intellect of man, is not sufficient. Therefore 
did the Church call in the beautiful art of painting ; and the 
holy, consecrated monk in his cloister developed all the origin- 
ality of his genius and of his mind to reproduce in captivat- 
ing form — in silent but eloquent words, the mysteries of the 
Church — the mysteries which the Church has taught from her 
birth. Then did the mystery of the Redemption, the Incarna- 
tion of the Son of God, the angels coming down from heaven 
to salute Mary — then did all these greet the eye of the rude, 
unlettered rtlan, and tell him, in language more eloquent than 
words, how much Almighty God in heaven loved him. But 
it was necessary for this that the art of painting should be ideal- 
ized to its very highest form. It was necessary to the painter's 
hand to fling around Mary's head a combined halo of virginity 
and of heavenly maternity. It was necessary that the angelic 
form that saluted her should have the transparency of heaven 
and of its own spiritual nature, floating, as it were, through him, 
in material color. It was necessary that the atmosphere that 
surrounded her should be as that cloudless atmosphere which is 
breathed before the throne of the Most High. It was necessary 
that the man who looked upon this should be lifted up from the 
thoughts of earth and engaged wholly in the contemplation of 
objects of heaven. Therefore, glimpses of beauty the most 
transcendent, aspirations of heaven, lifting up the soul from all 



io8 



TJlc CJiutcIl, the Mother 



earthliness — from worldliness — were necessary. To obtain this 
the monk was obhged to fast and pray while he painted. The 
monk was obliged to lift up his own thoughts, his own imagina- 
tion, his own soul, in contemplation, and view, as it were, the 
scene which he was about to illustrate, with no earthly eye. The 
Church alone could do this, and the Church did it. She created 
the art of painting. There was no tradition in the pagan world 
to aid him ; no beauty — the beauty of no fair forms in all the 
fulness of their majestic symmetry before his eye to inspire 
him. He must look altogether to heaven for his inspiration. 
And so faithfully did he look up to heaven's glories, and so clear 
w^as the vision that the painter- monk received of the beauties he 
depicted on earth, that in the thirteenth century there arose in 
Florence a Dominican monk, a member of our order, beatified 
by his virtues, and called by the single title of " The Angelic 
Painter." He illustrated the Holy Trinity. He put before the 
eyes of the people all the great mysteries of our faith. And now, 
after so many ages — after six hundred years have passed away, 
whenever a painter, or lover of art, stands before one of those 
wonderful angels and saints, painted by the hand of the ancient 
monk, now in heaven, it seems to him as if the very angels of 
God had descended from on high and stood before the painter, 
while he fixed their glory in colored form, as they appear to the 
eye of the beholder. It seems as if we gazed upon the blessed 
angelic hosts, and as if Gabriel, standing before Mary, mingled 
the joy of the meeting with the solemnity of the m^essage which 
the painter represents him as announcing. It seems as if Mary 
is seen receiving the message of man's redemption from the 
angel, not as a woman of earth, but as if she was the very per- 
sonification of the woman that the inspired Evangelist at 
Patmos saw, clothed with the sun, and the moon under her 
feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars." Michael Angelo, 
the greatest of painters, gazed in wonder at the angels and 
saints that the Dominican monk had painted. Astonished, he 
knelt down, gave thanks to God, and said, " The man that could 
have painted these must have seen them in heaven I" 

The architecture of the ancient world, of Greece and of 
Rome, remained. It was inspired by a Pagan idea, and it never 
rose above the idea that inspired it. The temples of Athens 
and of Rome remain in all their shattered glory, and in all the 



And Inspiration of Ai't. 



109 



chaste beauty of their proportions. Very remarkable are they 
as architectural studies for this : that they spread themselves 
out, and covered as much of the earth's space as possible ; that 
the pillars \yere low and the arches low ; and everything seemed 
to cling to and tend towards earth. For this was the idea, and 
the highest idea, of architecture, that ever entered into the mind 
of the greatest of the men of ancient civilization. The monk 
in his cloister, designing to build a temple and a house for the liv- 
ing God, looking upon the models of ancient Greece and Rome, 
saw in them a grovelling and an earthly architecture. His mind 
was heavenward in aspiration. His thoughts, his affections, 
were all purified by the life which he led. Out of that upward 
tendency of mind and heart sprang the creation of a new style 
of Christian architecture, which is called the Gothic ; as little in 
it of earth as may be — ^just sufficient to serve the purpose of a 
superstructure. The idea was to raise it as high towards heaven 
as possible — to raise a monument to Almighty God — a monu- 
ment revealing in every detail of its architecture the divine 
idea, and the upward tendency of the regenerated heart of the 
Christian man. Now, therefore, let every arch be pointed ; 
now, therefore, let every pillar spring up as loftily as a spire ; 
now, let every niche be filled with angels and saints — som.e who 
were tried in love — others who maintained the faith — teaching 
the lesson of their sanctity — now pronouncing judgment, now 
proclaiming mercy. Novv^, therefore, let the high tower be up- 
lifted on which swings the bell, consecrated by the blessing of 
the Church, to fling out upon the air around, which trembles as 
it receives its message, the notes of Christian joy and of Chris- 
tian sorrow ! And high above that tower, let the slender, pointed 
spire seek the clouds, and rear up, as near to heaven as man can 
go, the symbol of the Cross on which Christ redeemed mankind ! 
The people require instruction ; put sermons in stones. Let 
the material edifice be an epic of faith and of praise to God. 
Let everything that the eye sees be symbolical of the divine. 

" Shut then in the petals of the flowers, 
Round the stems of all the lilies twine, 
Hide beneath each bird's or angel's pinion, 
Some wise meaning or some thought divine. 
Place in stony hands that pray forever. 
Tender words of peace, and strive to wind 
Round the leafy scrolls and fretted niches 
Some true loving message to your kind." 



no 



The Church, the Mother 



Such is the Church's idea ; and such is the architecture of which 
she is the mother ! Thus we behold the glorious churches of the 
middle ages. Thus we behold them in those ancient and quaint 
towns of Belgium and of France. We behold on their transepts, 
for instance, a tracery as fine as if it were wrought and embroid- 
ered by a woman's hands, with a strength that has been able to 
defy the shocks of war and the action of ages. If the traveller 
seeks the sunny plains of Italy, he climbs the snow-crowned, soli- 
tary Alps, and there, after his steep and rugged ascent, he beholds 
on one side the valleys of Switzerland, and he turns to the land 
of the noonday sun, and sees before him the fair and wide- 
spread plains of Lombardy. The great rivers flow through 
these plains and look as if they were of molten silver. The 
air is pure, and the sky is the sky of Italy. Majestic cities dot 
the plains at his feet. But amongst them all, as the sun flings 
his Italian light upon the scene — amongst them all, he beholds 
one thing that dazzles his eyes with its splendor. There, far 
away in the plains, within the gates of the vast city of Milan, 
he sees a palace of white marble rising up from the earth ; ten 
thousand statues of saints around it ; with countless turrets, 
and a spire with a pinnacle rising towards heaven, as if in a riot 
of Christian joy. The sun sparkles upon it as if it were covered 
with the rime of a hoar-frost, or as if it were made of molten 
silver. Possibly his steps are drawn thither, and it pleases him 
to enter the city. Never before — never, even with the eye of 
the mind — had the traveller seen so grand an idea of the sacred 
humanity of Jesus Christ ! Here He reigns ! Who can deny 
the historical facts which I have narrated ? Who can deny that 
if, to-day, our ear is charmed with the sound of music — our eye 
delighted with the contemplation of paintings — our hearts within 
us lifted up at the sight of some noble monument of architec- 
ture — who can deny, with such facts before him, that it was the 
Church that created these — that she is the mother of these — 
and that she brought them forth from out the chaos and the 
ruin that followed the destruction of the pagan civilization ? 
But whilst she was their mother, she was also their highest in- 
spiration. For, remember, that the zeal in art may be taken 
from earth, or drawn from heaven. Art may aspire to neither 
more nor less than to hold the mirror up to nature." The 
painter, for instance, may aspire to nothing more than to render 



A7id Inspiratio7i of Art. 



1 1 1 



faithfully, as it is in nature, a herd of cattle, or a busy scene in 
the town. The musician may aspire to nothing more than the 
pleasure which his music will give to the sense of the voluptu- 
ous in man. The architect may aspire to nothing more than 
the creation, in .a certain space, of a certain symmetry of pro- 
portion, and a certain usefulness in the work of his hands. 
They may hold the mirror up to nature ;" but this is not a per- 
fect idealisation of art. The true ideal holds the mirror of its 
representation not only up to nature, to copy that nature faith- 
fully, but — higher still — to God, to catch one ray of divine in- 
spiration, one ray of divine light, one ray of heavenly instruc- 
tion, and to fling that pure, heavenly light over the earthly pro- 
ductions of his art. This pious inspiration is only to be found 
in the Catholic Church. It is found in her music — those strains 
of hers which we call the " Gregorian chant," — which, without 
producing any very great excitement or pleasure, yet fall upon 
the ear, and through the ear, upon the soul, with a calming, 
solemn influence, and seem to speak to the affections in the 
very highest language of worship. Plaintively do they fall — yes, 
plaintively — because the Church of God has not yet shone over 
the earth in the fullness of her glory — plaintively, because the 
object of her worship is mainly to make reparation to an offend- 
ed God for the negligence of the sinner — plaintively, because the 
words which this music breathes are the words of the penitent 
and the contrite of heart — plaintively, because, perhaps, my 
brethren, the highest privilege of the Christian here is a holy 
sadness, according to the words of Him who said : " Blessed are 
they who mourn and weep, for they shall be comforted." 

In the lapse of years, the Church again brought forth another 
method and gave us another school, which expresses to-day 
the pious exultation, the riot of joy, with which, on Christmas 
day, Palaestrina sang before Pope Marcellus, in Rome. Who 
can say — who is there with trained, sympathetic ear who hears 
them, who cannot say — that the inspiration which is in them is 
altogether of heaven — heavenly ; and that it lifts up the soul 
to the contemplation of heavenly themes, and to the triumph 
of Jesus Christ. The highest inspiration came through faith. 

Let us turn to the art of painting. So long as this noble art 
was in the hands of the monk — the man of God — so long had 
we masterpieces of painting, such as have never been equalled 



112 



The Churchy the Mother 



by any that since came forth — masterpieces by men who fasted 
and prayed, and looked upon their task, as painters, to be a 
heavenly and a holy one. We read of the blessed Angelico, the 
Dominican painter, whose works are the glory of the world to- 
day — we read of him, that he never laid his brush to a painting 
of the Mother of God, or of our Lord, except on the day when 
he had been at Holy Communion. We read of him that he 
never painted the infant Jesus, or the Crucifixion, except on his 
knees. We read of him that whilst he brought out the divine 
sorrow in the Virgin Mother, for the Saviour on the cross — 
whilst he brought out the God-like tribulation of Him who suf- 
fered there — he was obliged to dash the tears from his eyes — 
the tears of love — the tears of compassion — which produced the 
high inspiration of his genius. Nay, the history of this art of 
painting teaches us that all the great masters were eminent as 
religious men, and that when they separated from the Church, 
as we see, their inspiration left them. The finest works that 
Raphael ever painted were those which he painted in his youth, 
wdiilst his heart was yet pure, and before the admiration of the 
world had made him stain the integrity of his soul by sin. The 
rugged, the almost omnipotent genius of Michael Angelo, was 
that of a man deeply impressed with faith, and most earnestly 
devoted to the practice of his religion. When, over the high 
altar of the Sistine Chapel, he brings out all the terrors of the 
Divine Judgment, which he puts there in a manner that makes 
the beholder tremble to-day — the Lord, in the attitude, not of 
blessing, but of sweeping denunciation over the heads of the 
wicked — he took good care, by prayer, by frequenting the sacra- 
ments, by frequent confession and communion, and by the 
purity of his life, to avert the judgments that he painted from 
falling on his own head. The most glorious epoch in the history 
of architecture was precisely that in the thirteenth and fourteenth 
centuries, when there arose the minsters of York ; of West- 
minster; of Notre Dame, in Paris; of Rouen; and all the won- 
derful old churches that, to-day, are the astonishment of the 
world, for the grandeur and majesty of their proportions, and 
the beauty of design they reveal. These churches sprung up at 
the very time that the Church alone held undisputed sway ; 
when all the arts were in her hands, and when the architects 
who built them were nearly all consecrated sons of the cloister. 



And Inspiration of Art. 



113 



It is worthy of remark, that we do not know the name of the 
architect that built St. Patrick's, or Christ Churcli, in Dubhn. 
We do not know the name of the architect that built West- 
minster Abbey, nor any one of these great and mighty mediaj\'al 
churches throughout Europe. We know, indeed, the name of 
the architect who built St. Paul's, in London, and of him who 
built St. Peter's, in Rome. They were laymen. The men who 
built the marvellous mediaeval churches were monks, and are 
now in the dust ; and, in their humility, they brought the secret 
of their genius to the grave, and no names of theirs are em- 
blazoned on the annals of the world's fame. 

Thus we see the highest inspiration of the arts — music, paint- 
ing, and architecture — came from the Catholic Church, and that 
the most attractive of them all were created in her cloisters. 
The greatest painters that ever lived had come forth from her 
bosom, animated by her spirit. The greatest churches that ever 
were built were built and designed by her consecrated children. 
The grand strains of ecclesiastical music, expressing the highest 
ideas, resounded in her cathedral churches. The world had 
grown under her fostering care. Young republics had sprung 
up under the Church's hand and guidance. The Italian repub- 
lics — the republics of Florence, of Pisa, of V enice, of Genoa — 
all gained their municipal rights and rights of citizenship (rights 
that were established for protection, and to insure equality of 
the law) under the Church's protection. Nay, more. The 
Church was ever willing and ready, both by legislation and by 
action, to curb the petty tyrants that oppressed the people ; to 
oblige the rugged castellan to emancipate his slaves. The 
Church was ever ready to send her highest representatives, 
archbishops and cardinals, into the presence of kings, to demand 
the people's rights ; and the very man who wrung the first 
principles of the British Constitution from an unwilling and 
tyrannical king, was the Catholic Archbishop of Canterbury — 
the only man who would dare to do it, for (and well the tyrant 
knew it) he could not touch the archbishop, because the arm of 
the Church was outstretched for his protection. Society was 
formed under her eyes and under her care. Her work now 
seemed to be nearly completed, when the Almighty God, in 
His wisdom, let fall a calamity upon the world. And I think 
you will agree with me — even such amongst }'ou i^if there be 

8 



114 



The Churchy the Mother 



any) who are not Catholics — that a calamity it was. A calamity 
fell upon the world in the sixteenth century, which not only 
divided the Church in faith, and separated nations from her, but 
which introduced new principles, new influences, new and hostile 
agencies, which Avere destructive of the most sacred rights. I 
am not here this evening so much a preacher as a lecturer ; I 
am speaking to you rather as an historian than as a priest ; and 
I ask you to consider this : We are accustomed to hear on every 
side that Protestantism was the emancipation of the human 
intellect from the slavery of the pope. To that I have only to 
answer this one word : Protestantism substituted the uncertainty 
of opinion instead of the certainty of faith which is in the 
Catholic Church. Protestantism declared that there was no 
voice on earth authorized or empowered to proclaim the truth 
of God ; that the voice that had proclaimed it for fifteen hundred 
years had told a lie ; that the people were not to accept the 
teaching of the Catholic Church as an authoritative and time- 
honored law, but that they were to go out and look for the faith 
for themselves — and in the worst way of all. Every man was to 
find a faith for himself ; and when he had found it he had no 
satisfactory guarantee, no certainty, that he had the true inter- 
pretation of the truth. If this be emancipating the intellect — 
if this changing of certainty into uncertainty, dogma into 
opinion, faith into a search after faith, be emancipation of the 
intellect — then Christ must have told a lie when he said : You 
shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free ! " The 
knowledge of the truth he declared to be the highest freedom ; 
and, therefore, I hold, not as a priest, but simply as a philoso- 
pher, that the assertion is false which says that the work of 
Protestantism was the emancipation of the intellect. All the 
results of modern progress — all the scientific success and re- 
searches that have been made — in a word, all the great things 
that have been done, are all laid down quietly at the feet of 
Protestantism as the effects of this change of religion. In Eng- 
land nothing is more common than for good Protestants to say, 
that the reason why we are now in so civilized a condition is 
because Martin Luther set up the Protestant religion. Pro- 
testantism claims the electric telegraph. The Atlantic cable 
does not lie so much in a bed of sand as on a holy bed of Pro- 
testantism that stretches from shore to shore ! They forget 



And Inspiration of Art. 115 

that there is a philosophical axiom which says : " One thing may 
come after another, and yet it may not be caused by the thing 
that went before." If one thing comes after another it does 
not follow that it is the effect of the other. It is true that all 
these things have sprung up in the world since Protestantism 
appeared. It is perfectly true that the many have learned to 
read since Protestantism gained ground. But why ? Is it 
because the Catholic Church kept the people in ignorance ? 
No ; it was because of a single want. It was about the time 
Protestantism sprung up that the art of printing was invented. 
Of course the many were not able to read when they had no 
books. The Catholic Church, as history proved, was even far 
more zealous than the Protestant new-born sect in multiplying 
copies of the Scripture, and in multiplying books for the people. 
One of the reproaches that is made to us to-day is, that we are too 
busy in the cause of education. Surely, if the Catholic Church 
is the mother of ignorance, that reproach cannot be truly made. 
Now, Protestants are making a noise, and saying that the Church, 
in every country and on every side, is planning and claiming to 
educate ! But all this is outside of my question. My question 
deals with the fine arts. 

Now, mark the change that took place ! Protestantism, un- 
doubtedly, weakened the Church's influence upon society. 
Undoubtedly, it took out of the Church's hands a great deal of 
that power which we have seen the Catholic Church exercise, 
for more than a thousand years, upon the fine arts. They claim, 
or they set up a rival claim, to foster the arts of music, of 
architecture, and of painting, so that these may no longer claim 
to receive their special inspiration from the Church, which was 
their mother and their creator, and through which they drew 
their heavenly genius. Well, the arts were thus divided in their 
allegiance, and thus deprived of their inspiration, by the institu- 
tion of this new religion. I ask you to consider, historically, 
whether that inspiration of art, that high and glorious inspira- 
tion, that magnificent ideal, was not destroyed the moment it 
was taken from under the guidance and inspiration of the Cath- 
olic Church ? I say that it was destroyed ; and I can prove it. 
Since the day that Protestantism was founded, architecture has 
decayed and fallen away. No great cathedral has been built. 
No great original has appeared. No new idea has been ex- 



ii6 



TJic CJnircJi, the MotJier 



pressed from the da}- that Luther declared schism in the Church, 
and warred against legitimate authority. No Protestant has 
ever originated a noble model in modern architecture. It has 
sunk down into a servile imitation of the ancient grovelling 
forms of Greece and Rome. Nay, whenever the ancient Gothic 
piles — majestic and inspiring Christian churches — fell into their 
hands, Avhat did they do ? They pulled them down, in order to 
build up some vile Grecian imitation, or else they debased the 
ancient grandeur and purity of the Gothic cathedral, by mixing 
in a wretched imitation of some ancient heathen or pagan 
temple. 

As to the art of painting : the painter no longer looked up 
to heaven for his subject. The painter no longer considered 
that his pious idea was to instruct and elevate his fellow-man. 
The painter no longer selected for his subjects the Mother of 
God, or the sacred humanity of our Lord, or the angels and 
saints of heaven. The halo of light that was shed upon the 
brush of the blessed Angelico — the halo of divine light that sur- 
rounded the Virgin's face as it grew under the creative hand of 
the young Christian painter of L^rbino, disappeared. The high- 
est ambition of the painter now is to sketch a landscape true to 
nature. The highest excellence of art seems now to be to catch 
the colors that approach most faithfully to the flesh-tints of the 
human body. And it is a remarkable fact, my friends, that the 
art of animal painting — painting cows and horses, and all these 
things — began with Protestantism. One of the very first animal 
painters was Roos, a German Protestant, who came to Rome, 
and the reproach of his fellow-painters was, There is the man 
that paints the cows and horses." Even sacred subjects were 
dealt with in this debased form — in this low and empty inspira- 
tion. Look, for instance, at the Magdalens, at the Madonnas 
of Rubens. Rubens, himself, was a pious Catholic ; yet his 
paintings displayed the very genius of Protestantism. If he 
wanted to paint the Blessed Virgin, he selected some corpulent 
and gross-looking woman, in whom he found some ray of mere 
sensual beauty that struck his eye, and he put her on the canvas, 
and held her up before men as the Virgin, whose prayer was to 
save, and whose power was above that of the angels. The 
artist who would truly represent her on canvas must have his 
pencils touched with the purity and grandeur of heaven. 



And Inspiration of Art. 



117 



Music. Music lost its inspiration when it fell from under the 
^^uidance of the Church. No longer were its strains the echoes 
of heaven. No longer is the burden of the hymn the heavenly 
aspiration of the human soul, tending towards its last and final 
beatitude. Oh, no ! but every development that this high and 
heavenly science receives, is a simple degradation into the cele- 
bration of human passion ; into the magnifying of human pride ; 
into the illustration of all that is worst and vilest in man ; and 
the highest theme of the musician to-day is not the Dies 
Irae it is not the ''Stabat Mater," the wailing voice of the 
Virgin's sorrow; it is not the Alleluia," to proclaim to the 
world the glories of the risen God ; no, the highest theme of the 
musician, to-day, is to take up some story of sensual, and merely 
human, love ; to set that forth with all the charms and all the 
meretricious embellishments of art. Thus do we behold in our 
own experience of to-day, how the arts went down, and lost their 
inspiration, as soon as there were taken from them the genius 
and the inspiring influence of the Church that created them, 
and, through them, civilized the world, and brought to us what- 
ever we have of civilization and refinement in this nineteenth 
century. Thank God, the reign of evil cannot last long upon 
this earth. It is one of the mysterious circumstances that the 
coming of our Lord developed. Before the Incarnation of the 
Son of God, an evil idea seemed to be in the nature of man. It 
propagated itself, it found a home and an abiding dwelling 
amongst the children of men. But, since the Incarnation of the 
Son of God, since the Eternal Word of God vouchsafed to take 
a human soul, a human body, human sensibilities, and, I will 
add, human genius — since that time, the base, and the vile, and 
the ephemeral, and the degraded, may come ; may debase art 
and artists ; may spoil the spirit of art for a time — but it cannot 
last very long. There is a native force, a nobleness in the soul 
of man that rises in revolt against it. And to-day, even to-day, 
the hour of revival seems to be coming — almost arrived — is al- 
ready come. The three arts of painting, of music, and archi- 
tecture, seem to be rising with their former inspiration, and 
seem to catch again a little of the departed light that was shed 
on them and flowed through them, from religion. Architecture 
revives, and the glories of the thirteenth century, though cer- 
tainly they may not be eclipsed, are almost equalled by the 



ii8 



TJic CJiiircJi, the Mother 



glories of the nineteenth. But a short distance from this, you 
see, in the middle of this great city, rising in its wonderful 
beauty, that which promises to be, and is to be, of all the glories 
of this country, the most glorious — the great cathedral. Across 
the water you see, in the neighboring city of Brooklyn, the fair 
and magnificent proportions of that which will be, in a few years, 
the glory of that adjacent shore, when on this side and on that, 
each tower, and spire, and pinnacle upholding an angel or saint, 
the highest of all will uphold the Cross of Jesus Christ. Music 
is reviving again — catching again the pure spirit of the past. A 
taste for the serene, the pure, the most spiritual songs of the 
Church, is every day gaining ground, and taking hold of the 
imagination. Painting, thank God, is reviving again ; and of 
this you have here abundant proof. Look around you. No 
gross, earthly figure stands out in the bare proportions of flesh 
and blood. No vile exposure of the mere flesh invites the eye 
of the voluptuous to feast itself upon the sight. The purity of 
God is here. The purity of the Church of God overhangs it, 
and the story of these scenes will go home to your hearts and 
to the hearts of your children, as the story that the blessed 
Angelico told in Florence six hundred years ago. Thanks be to 
God it is so ! Thanks be to God that when I lift up my eyes I 
may see so much of the purity of the face down which flow the 
last tears of blood ! When I lift up mine eyes. here it seems to 
me as if I stood bodily in the holy society of these men. It 
seems to me that I see in the face of John the expression of the 
highest manly sympathy that comforted and consoled the dying 
eyes of the Saviour. It seems to me that I behold the Blessed 
Virgin, w^iose maternal heart consented in that hour of agony 
to be broken for the sins of men. It seems to me that I behold 
the Magdalen, as she clings to the Cross, and receives upon that 
hair with which she wiped His feet, the drops of His blood. It 
seems to me that I behold that heart, humbled in penance and 
inflamed with love — the heart of the woman who had loved 
much, and for whom He had prayed. It seems to me that I 
travel step by step to Calvary, and learn, as they unite in Him, 
every lesson of suffering, of peace, of hope, of joy, and of divine 
love ! 

Thank God, it is fitting in a Dominican church that this 
should be so I It is fitting in a temple of my order that, when I 



And Inspiration of Art. 



119 



look upon the image of my Holy Father over that entrance, in 
imagination, and without an effort, I travel back to the spot 
where I had the happiness to live my student's days, and where, 
in the very cell in which I dwelt, I beheld from Angelico's own 
hand a glorious specimen of his art. These are the gladness 
of our eyes, the joy of our hearts. They give us reason to re- 
joice with him who said : ^' I have loved, oh Lord, the beauty 
of Thy house, and the place where Thy glory dwelleth." They 
give us reason to rejoice, because they are not only fair and 
beautiful in themselves, but they are also the guarantee and the 
promise that the traditions of ecclesiastical painting, sculpture, 
architecture, and music, in this new country, will yet come out 
and rival all the glories of the nations that for centuries and cen- 
turies have upheld the Cross. They are a cause of gladness to 
us, for, when we shall have passed away, our children and our 
children's children shall come here, and, in reviewing these pic- 
tures, will learn to feel the love of Jesus Christ. Amongst the 
traditions of one of the old cities of Belgium, there is one of a 
little boy who grew up, visiting every day the cathedral of the 
city. One day he stood with wondering and child-like eyes be- 
fore a beautiful painting of the Infant Jesus. According as time 
went on, and reason grew upon him, his love for the picture 
became greater and greater ; and when he became a man, his 
love for it was so great that he spent his days in the cathedral 
as organist, pealing forth the praises of the Son of God. His 
manhood went down into the vale of years, but his love for the 
picture was still the one child-love — the young love and passion 
of his heart. And so he lived, a child of art, and died in the 
odor of sanctity of God. And that art had fulfilled its highest 
mission, for it had sanctified the soul of a man. Oh, may these 
pictures that we look upon with so much pleasure — may they 
teach to you, and to your children after you, the lesson they are 
intended to teach, of the love, of the charity, of the mercy of 
Jesus ; that, loving Him and loving the beauty of His house, 
and catching every gleam that faith reveals of her higher beauty, 
and everything that speaks of Him forever, you may come to 
behold Him as He shines in the uncreated light and majesty of 
His glory ! 



"THE GROUPINGS OF CALVARY." 



ST. JOHN, THE EVANGELIST. 



[Delivered on Sunday, ?^Iarch 24th, in the Dominican Church of St. Vincent 
Ferrer, New York.] 

TOLD you this morning, my brethren, that we should 
confine our attention during the next few days to the 
groupings that surrounded our Blessed Lord upon the 
Hill of Calvary. I then intended, this evening, to put 
before you the various characters and classes of men who were 
there as the enemies of God. I must, however, alter somewhat 
this programme. To-morrow will be the Feast of the Annun- 
ciation of the Blessed Virgin — one of the greatest festivals of 
the Christian year — commemorating a mystery from which all 
the mysteries of our redemption are derived. It will be held, as 
you are aware, of obligation ; and, therefore, I shall be obliged 
so far to depart from my original design, as to let in, to-morrow 
evening, a sermon on the great festival of the day — the Annun- 
ciation of the Blessed Virgin. Thus far I must interfere with 
the plan I have laid down, and this will oblige me, this evening, 
simply to notice briefly the different groups and classes by which 
the enemies of our Divine Lord were represented upon Calvary. 
We shall then pass, at once, to the consideration of the man 
who stood there as the friend of his dying Lord and Saviour. 

There were many classes of men surrounding our Blessed 
Lord on that fearful and terrible journey, when, starting from 
the court of his condemnation, He turned his face toward 
Calvary, and set out upon the dolorous "Way of the Cross." 
The men who condemned Him, sitting in that tribunal, were 
not satisfied with that sentence ; but, in the eagerness of their 




The Groupings of Calvary. 



121 



revenge, they would fain witness his execution — following out 
the expressed word of the Evangelist, that the Scribes and 
Pharisees followed our Lord, and fed their revengeful eyes upon 
the contemplation of His three hours of agony on the Cross.- 
The immediate agents of this terrible act of execution were the 
Roman soldiers of the cohort, who had scourged Him, who had 
crowned Him with thorns, and who accompanied Him with 
stolid indifference to the place of His execution. They were 
pagans. They were men who had never heard the name of 
God. They were men who, had they heard it, must have heard 
it in a language which they scarcely understood, and which was 
the medium of the common record of what were called " the 
wonders," — that is, of the miracles of Christ. But it scarcely 
stirred up in them even a natural curiosity ; and, therefore, they 
brought Him to execution, as they would have dragged any 
other criminal, with this one exception, that, by a strange, dia- 
bolical possession, they looked upon this man of whom they 
knew nothing — upon this man who had never injured them in 
word or in deed — with intense abhorrence, and hated Him with 
an inexplicable hatred. They thus typified the nations who 
know not the Lord of Truth. ,Li paganism, in the darkness 
and wickedness of their infidelity, they know not the name of 
God. When that name is pronounced in their presence, it falls 
upon their ears rather as the name of an enemy than that of a 
friend. They cannot explain why they hate Him. No more 
can we explain the hatred of the Roman soldiers. The mission- 
ary goes forth to-day in all the power of the priesthood of 
Christ. He stands in the presence of the people of China, or of 
Japan. As long as he speaks to them of the civilization, of the 
immense military power, of the riches and of the glor}' of the 
country from which he comes, they hear him willingly and with 
interested ears. As long as he reveals to them any secret of 
human science, they make use of him, they are glad to receive 
him. Thus it is, we know, that some of the Jesuit missionaries 
held the very highest places at the court of the Emperor of 
China. But as soon as ever the missionary mentions the name 
of Christ, they not only refuse to hear him, but they are stirred 
up, on the instant, with diabolical rage ; hate and anger flash 
from their eyes ; and they lay hold of the messenger who bring- 
eth them the messr.ge of peacj, and love, and of eternal life. 



122 



The Groupings of Calvary. 



and they imagine they have not fulfilled their duty until they 
have shed his heart's blood upon the spot. Oh, how vast the 
crowd of those who, for centuries, have thus greeted the Son 
of God and every man who speaks in His name ! Think of the 
outlying millions, to whom, for eighteen hundred years and 
more, the Church — the messenger of God — has preached and 
appealed, but in vain ! Behold the class that was represented 
round the Cross, lifting up indifferent, stolid, or, if anything, 
scowling faces, amid the woes of Him who, in that hour of His 
agony and of His humiliation, mingled His prayers for forgive- 
ness with the last drop of blood that flowed through His wounds 
from His dying heart ! 

There is another class there. It is made up of those who 
knew Him well, or who ought to have known Him. They had 
seen His miracles; they had witnessed His sanctity ; they had 
disputed with Him upon the laws, until He had convinced 
them that His was the wisdom that could not belong to man, 
but to God. He had silenced them. He had answered every 
argument that foolhardy and audacious men made to Him. 
He had reduced them to such shame that no man ever dared to 
question Him again. But He. interfered with their interests 
and their pride. That pride revolted against submitting to 
Him. That self-love and self-interest prompted the thought 
that if He lived. His light would outshine theirs, and their in- 
fluence with the people would be gone. These were the Scribes 
and the Pharisees. They were the leaders of the people. 
They were the magistrates of Jerusalem. They were the men 
whose loud voice and authoritative tones were heard in the 
Temple. They were the men who walked into that house as 
if it was not the house of God, but their house. They were 
the men who walked fearlessly up to the altar, to speak words 
of blasphemous pride, and call them prayers. They were the 
men who despised the humble Publican making his act of contri- 
tion. They were the men who lifted their virtuous hands and 
hypocritical eyes to heaven to lament over the weakness of 
human nature. They were the men who hated Christ, because 
they could not argue with Him — because they could not uphold 
their errors against His truth — because they could not hold 
their own, but were struck dumb at the sight of His sanctity 
and the sound of His powerful voice. What did they do 



TJie Groupings of Calvary, 



123 



They began to tell lies to the people. They began to tell the 
people how He was an impostor and a blasphemer. They began 
to mislead the people — to destroy the estimate that people 
might make of Jesus Christ. They endeavored to find false 
witnesses to bring them to swear away first His character and 
then Plis life. Ah ! need I say whom they represent ? Need I 
tell a people in whose memories is fresh to-day the ever-recur- 
ring lie that is flung in the face of the Catholic Church — the 
ever-recurring false testimony that is brought against her — the 
burning of her churches, the defiling of her altars, the outrages 
on her priests, the insults heaped upon her holy nuns, the peo- 
ple inflamed against the very name of Catholicity itself, so that 
the word might be fulfilled of Him who said : ''They shall cast 
out your very name as evil for my sake ;" the men who made 
the very name of a monk, or a friar, or a Jesuit mean some- 
thing awfully gross, or sensual, or material ! These men were 
naturally worldly and deceitful. I need not point out to you 
that, in the midst of you, and ever}^ day — from their pulpits, 
from their conventicles, through their daily press — ever}.^ day 
we are made familiar with the old lie, shifted and changed, 
tortured, distorted, and twisted, and the false testimony 
brought out in a thousand forms of falsehood. And there 
were others who believed in Christ — who knew Him — who 
had enjoyed His conversation and His friendship, and who 
were afraid to be seen in His company in that dark hour, and 
upon that hill of shame. Where were the Apostles ? Where 
were the Disciples ? They had fled from their Master because 
ic was dangerous to be seen with Him. Judas, the representa- 
tive of the man who sells his religion and his God for this 
world ; who sells his con&cience in order to fill his purse ; who 
sells everything that is most sacred when that demand is made 
upon him for temporal profit and pelf; who seals his iniquity 
by a bad communion in order to save appearances ; and, whilst 
with one hand he was taking money from the Pharisees, with 
the other hand he was taking Christ to his breast ; the man 
who played a double part ; the man who did not wish to break 
utterly with his Lord, nor to sacrifice the good opinion of his 
fellow-apostles ; and, therefore, he received damnation to him- 
self in a bad communion — he does not dare to climb the rugged 
steep of Calvary; but he stands afar off, and beholds a terrible 



124 



The Groupings of Calvary. 



sight ; he sees passing before his eyes his Lord, his Master, in 
whose innocence he beheves, though he has betrayed Him ; 
his Lord, his Master, torn with scourges from head to foot, 
crowned with thorns, covered with blood ; his Lord and his 
Master, who had so often spoken to him words of friendship 
and of love, passed before the eyes of the renegade and trai- 
tor. As he looked, and his eyes caught, for an instant, the 
countenance of that figure, tottering along in weakness and 
in pain — the sight brought back remembrance of the days 
that were gone, with no glimmering of hope, no light of con- 
solation to his soul, but only the feeling that he had betrayed 
his God, and that he held then in his infamous purse the 
money for which he had sold his soul and his conscience. He 
stood aghast and pale. He tore his hair, and uplifted his des- 
pairing hands. He found that he could not live to see the con- 
summation of his iniquity ; and before the Saviour had sent 
forth the last cry for a redeemed world, the soul of the suicide 
Judas had gone down to hell ! It were better for him had he 
never been born!" Does he represent any class? Are there 
not in this world men who are almost glad to have something 
to barter with the world, when they give up their holy faith and 
religion in order to clutch this world's possessions ? Have we 
not read in the history of the nations — in the history of the 
land from which most of us sprang — have we never read of 
men selling their faith for this world's riches and this world's 
honors? Have we never read, in the history of the world, of 
men who, in order to save appearances, approached the holy 
altar and received the holy communion ? Of monarchs who, in 
order to stand well with their Catholic subjects, made a show 
of going to holy communion ? And of sycophants and cour- 
tiers who, in order to please a king, in a fit of piety or a fit of 
repentance, went to holy communion? But time will not per- 
mit me to linger in the contemplation of the many classes of the 
worldly-minded ; the false friend, the bitter, though conscious, 
enemy, the heartless executioners ; the men who surrounded 
Him then, exact counterparts of those whom we meet to-day. 

But there was one there, — and it is to that one that my 
thoughts and my heart turn this night. There was one there 
who was destined to be, through all ages, and unto all nations, 
a type of what the true Christian man — the friend of Christ, 



The Groupings of Calvary, 



125 



must be ; a true representative of the part that he must play, in 
the sacrifice that from time to time he must make, to test the 
strength and the tenderness of his love. There was one there, 
young and beautiful, who did not flinch from his Master and 
Lord in that hour ; who walked by His side ; who shared in the 
reproaches that were showered upon the head of the Son of 
God, and took his share of the grief and the shame of that terri- 
ble morning of Good Friday. There was one there whom the 
Master permitted to be there, that he might, as it were, lean 
upon the strength of his manhood and the fearlessness of his 
love. That one was John the Evangelist. Behold him, as, with 
the virginal eyes, he looks up as a man to his fellow-man on the 
Cross ! Behold him as he seems to say : Oh, Master ! Oh, 
Lover of my soul and heart ! can I relieve you of a single sor- 
row by taking it up and making it my own ? " This was John. 
Consider Avho he was, and what. Three graces surrounded him 
as he stood at the foot of the Cross. Three divine gifts form a 
halo of heavenly light around his head. They were the grace 
of Christian purity, the grace of divine love, and the manliness 
of the bravery that despises the world, when it is a question of 
giving testimony of love and of fidelity to his God and his 
Saviour — three noble gifts, with which the world is so ill-sup- 
plied to-day ! Oh, my brethren, need I tell you that of all the 
evils in this our day, there is one which has arrived at such 
enormous proportions that it has received the name of " The 
Social Evil ! " — the evil which finds its way into every rank and 
every grade of society ; the evil which, raising its miscreated 
head, now and again frightens us, and terrifies the very world 
by the evidence of its wide-spread pestilence ; the evil that, to- 
day, pollutes the heart, destroys the soul of the young, and 
shakes our nature and our manliness to its very foundations, 
and brings down the indignant and the sweeping curse of God 
upon whole nations ! Need I tell you that that evil is the ter- 
rible evil of impurity — the unrestrained passion, the foul imagi- 
nation, the debased and degraded cravings of this material flesh 
and blood of ours, rising up in rebellion, and declaring, in its 
inflamed desires, that nothing of God's law, nothing of God's 
redemption shall move it ; that all, all may perish, but it must 
be satiated and gorged with that food of lust, of which, the 
Scripture says, the taste is death." Of this I have alrcad\- 



126 The Groupings of Calvary. 

spoken to you, and also of the opposite virtue, the index " 
virtue, as it is called — the virtue of virtues ; of that I have also 
spoken to you ; that by which lost man is raised up to the \Q.xy 
perfection of his spiritual nature ; by which the Divine efful- 
gence of the highest resemblance to Christ is impressed upon 
the soul ; by which the fragrance and brightness of the Virgin, 
and of the Virgin's Son, seems to shine even in the body of man 
as well as in the spirit, filling the whole being," says St. Ephrem, 
''with the odor of its sweetness." Such virtue of angelic purity 
did Christ, our Lord, come to establish upon earth. Such vir- 
tue did He lay as the foundation of His Church, in a chaste and 
a virginal priesthood ; in the foundations of society, in a chaste 
and pure manhood ; preserving the integrity of the soul in the 
purity of the body. Such virtue belonged to John, ''the disci- 
ple of love; " and it belonged to him in its highest phase; for, 
as the Holy Fathers, and the interpreters of the Church's tra- 
ditions from the very beginning, and notably, St. Peter Damas- 
cus, tell us, — John the Evangelist was a virgin from the cradle 
to the grave. No thought of human love ever flashed through 
his mind. No angry uprising of human passion ever disturbed 
the equable nature of his heavenly tempered soul and body. 
He was the youngest of all the Apostles ; and he was little 
more than a youth when the virgin-creating eyes of Christ fell 
upon him. Christ looked upon him, and saw a virginal body, 
fair and beautiful in its translucent purity of innocence. He, 
the Creator and Redeemer, saw a soul pure, and bright, and 
unstained ; a soul just opening into manhood, and in the full 
possession of all its powers ; and a tender, yet a most pure heart, 
unfolding itself even as the lily bursts forth and unfolds its 
white leaves to gather in its cup the dews of heaven, like dia- 
mond drops, in its heart of purest whiteness. So did our Lord 
behold the fair soul of John. Jesus Christ spoke in that virgin 
ear the words of invitation ; and into that virgin soul He dropped 
those graces of Apostleship, and of love, and of tenderness, and 
of strength, that, lying there amiongst those petals of glory, 
brought forth in the soul of the young man all that was radiant 
of most Christ-like virtue. A virgin — that is to say, one who 
never let a thought of his mind, nor an affection of his heart, 
stray from the highest form of Divine love ; thus was he before 
he had beheld the face of his Redeemer. But when to that 



The Groupings of Calvary. 



127 



virginal purity, which naturally seeks the love of God in its 
highest form, that God made Himself visible in the shape of 
the sacred humanity of our Lord ; when the virgin's King, the 
Prince, and the leader of the Virgin's choir in heaven, presented 
Himself to the eyes of the young Apostle, oh, then, with the 
instinct of purity, his heart seemed to go forth from him and to 
seek the heart of Christ. And so it was for three years, under 
the purifying eyes of our Lord. He lived for three years in the 
most intimate communion of love with his Master; distinguished 
from all the other Apostles, of whom we do not know that ever 
one of them was a virgin, but only John ; distinguished from 
them by being admitted, through his privileged virginal purity, 
into the inner chambers of the heart of Christ. Thus, when 
our Lord appeared to the Apostles upon the waters, all the 
others shrank from Him, terrified ; and they said to each other. 
It is a ghost ! It is an appearance ! " John looked, and in- 
stantly recognized his Master, and said to Peter : " Don't be 
afraid! It is the Lord!" Whereupon, St. Jerome says: — 
" What eyes were those of John, that could see that which 
others could not see ? Oh, it was the eye of a virgin recogniz- 
ing a virgin !" Solus virgo virginem agnoscit. So it was that a 
certain tacit privilege was granted to John, as is seen in the 
conduct of the Apostles themselves. Peter, certainly, was 
honored above all the others by getting precedence and suprem- 
acy ; by being appointed the Vicar and representative of his 
Master ; in other words, the Head of the Apostles." Nay, 
more, the heart of Peter was sounded to the very depths of its 
capacity and of its love, before Christ our Lord appointed him 
as His representative. Three times did he ask him, " Lovest 
thou Me?" Again, in the presence of John, ''Lovest thou 
Me, Peter, more than these?" More than these ; more than the 
men who are present before Me, and of whom I speak to you. 
And Peter was confirmed in that hour, and rose, by Divine grace, 
to a height in the sight of his Divine Master, greater than any 
ever attained by man. It is not the heart of the man loving 
the Lord, but it is the heart of the Lord loving the man. So 
Peter was called upon to love his Lord more than the others. 
But the tenderest love of his Divine Master was the privilege 
of John. He was the disciple ''whom Jesus loved." And well 
did his fellow-Apostles know it. What a privilege was not that 



128 TJic Groupings of Calvary. 

which was given to John at the Last Supper because of his 
virginal purity? There was the Master, and there were the dis- 
ciples around Him. There was the man whom He had destined 
to be the first pope — the representative of His power, and head 
of His followers. Did Peter get the first place ? No! The first 
place of love, the place next to the left side, nearest the dear 
heart side, was the privilege of John. And — oh ! ineffable dig- 
nity vouchsafed by our Saviour to His virgin friend I — the head 
of the disciple was laid upon the breast of the Master, and the 
human ear of John heard the pulsations of the virginal heart of 
Christ, the Lord of earth and heaven I Between those two, in 
life, you may easily see in this and other such traits recorded in 
the Gospel ; between these two — the Master and the disciple 
whom He loved ; there was a silent intercommunion — an in- 
tensity of tender love of which the other Apostles seem not to 
have known. Out of this very purity of John sprang the love 
of his Divine Lord and Master. It was after His resurrection 
that our Lord asked Peter, Dost thou love ]\Ie more than 
these?" Before the suffering and death of the Son of God, 
Peter, not yet confirmed in love, wavered in his allegiance and 
denied his Master ; John's love knew no change. Peter's love 
had first to be humbled, and then purified by tears, and the 
heart broken by contrition before he was able to assert : Lord, 
Thou knowest all things: Thou knowest that I love Thee !" 
But in the love of St. John we find an undoubting, an unchang- 
ing love. What his Master was to him in the hour of His 
glory, the same was He in the hour of His shame. He beheld 
his Lord, shining on the summit of Tabor on the day of His 
Transfiguration ; yet he loved Him as dearly when He beheld 
Him covered with shame and confusion on the Cross I \Miat 
was the nature of that love ? Oh, my friends, think what was 
the nature of that love? It had taken possession of a mighty 
but an empty heart. Mighty in its capacity of love is the 
heart of man — the heart of the young man — the heart of the 
ingenious, talented, and enlightened youth. Would you know 
of how much love this heart is capable ? Behold it in the saints 
of the Catholic Church. Behold it in ever}'^ man who gives his 
heart to God wholly and entirely. Behold it even in the sacri- 
fices that young hearts make when they are filled with merely 
human love. Behold it in the sacrifice of life, of health, of 



The Groupings of Calvary. 



129 



everything which a man has, which is made upon the altar of 
his love, even when that human love has taken the base, 
revolting form of impurity. But measure, if you can, the 
ardor of pure love for Jesus Christ. I address the heart of the 
young man, and he cannot see it ! The truth lies here, that the 
most licentious and self-indulgent sinner on the face of the 
earth, has never yet known, in the indulgence of his wildest ex- 
cesses, the full contentment, the complete enjoyment, the mighty 
faculty of love which is in the heart of man, and which God 
alone can satisfy. 

Such was the heart which our Lord called to him. Such was 
the heart of John. It was a capacious heart. It was the heart 
of a young man. It was empty. No human love was there. 
No previous affection came in to cross or counteract the de- 
signs of God in the least degree, or to take possession of the 
remotest corner, even, of that heart. Then, finding it thus 
empty in its purity, thus capacious in its nature, the Son of 
God filled the heart of the young Apostle with His love. Oh, 
it was the rarest, the grandest friendship that ever existed on 
this earth ; the friendship that bound together two virgin hearts 
— the heart of the beloved disciple, John ; the grand virgin love 
which absorbed John's affections, filling his young heart and in- 
tellect with the beauty and the highest appreciation of his Lord 
and Master, filling his senses with the charms ineffable pro- 
duced by the sight of the face of the Holy One. He looked 
upon the beauty of that sacred and Di\-ine humanity ; and he 
saw with the penetrating eyes of the intellect the fullness of the 
Divinity that flashed upon him. He had listened to the words 
of the Divine Master, and sweeter were they than the music 
which He heard in heaven, and which he describes in the 
Apocalypse, where he says : ''I heard the sound of many 
voices, and of harpers harping upon many harps." Far sweeter 
than the echoes of heaven that descended into his soul on the 
Isle of Patmos, was the noble, manly voice of his Lord and 
Master — now pouring forth blessings upon the poor — now 
telling those who weep that they shall one day be comforted — 
now whispering to the widow of Naim, Weep no more ;" 
now telling the penitent ^Magdalen, ''Thy sins are forgiven 
thee because thou hast loved much !" now thundering in at 
the temple of Jerusalem, until the very walls resounded to the 

9 



TJie Groupings of Calvary. 



God-like voice of Him who said : It is written that My house 
is a house of prayer, but you have made it a den of thieves 
it was still the loftiest music and melody — the harmonious roll 
of the voice of God— as it fell upon the charmed ears of the 
enraptured Evangelist — the young man who followed his 
Master and fed his soul upon thai Divine love. Out of this 
love sprang that inseparable fellow^ship that bound him to 
Christ. Not for an instant was he voluntarily absent from his 
Master's side. Not for an instant did he separate himself from 
the immediate society of his Lord. And herein lay the secret 
of his love ; for love, be it human or Divine, craves for union, 
and lives in the sight and in the conversation of the object of its 
affection. Consequently, of all the Apostles, John was the one 
who was always clinging around his Master — always trying to 
be near him — always trying to catch the loving eyes of Christ 
in every glance. This was the light of his brightness — the 
Divine wisdom that animated him ! 

How distinct is the action of John, in the hour of the Passion, 
from that of Peter ! Our divine Lord gave warning to Peter ; 

Peter," He says, before the cock crows you Avill deny me 
thrice." No wonder the Master's voice struck terror into 
the heart of the Apostle. And yet, strange to say, it did not 
make him cautious or prudent. When our Lord was taken 
prisoner, the Evangelist expressly tells us that Peter followed 
Him. Followed Him ? Lideed, he followed Him ; but he fol- 
lowed Him afar off. " Petrus autein seqiiebatur eitni a longed 
He waited on the outskirts of the crowd. He tried to hide him- 
self in the darkness of the night. He tried to conceal his features, 
lest any man might lay hold of him, and make him a prisoner, 
as the friend of the Redeemer. He began to be afraid of the 
danger of acknowledging himself to be the servant of such a 
Master. He began to think of himself, when every thought of 
his mind and every energy of his heart should have been con- 
centrated upon his Lord, He followed Him ; but at some dis- 
tance. Ah ! at a good distance. John, on the other hand, 
rushed to the front. John wanted to be seen with his Master. 
John wanted to take the Master's hand, even when bound by 
the thongs, that he might receive the vivifying touch of contact 
with Christ. John wanted to hear every word that might be 
said, whether it were for or against Him. John wanted to feast 



The Groupings of Calvary. 



his eyes upon every object which engaged the attention of his 
Lord, and by whose look it was irradiated — a type, indeed, of a 
class of Christian men, seeking the society and presence of their 
Master, and strengthened by that seeking and that presence. 
He is the type of the man who goes frequently to holy com- 
munion, preparing himself by a good confession, and so laying 
the basis of a sacramental union with God, that becomes a large 
element of his life — the man who goes to the altar every month 
— the man who is familiar with Christ, and who enters some- 
what into the inner chambers' of that sacred heart of infinite 
love ; the man who knows what those few minutes of rapture 
are which are reserved for the pure ; for those who not only 
endeavor to serve God, but to serve Him lovingly and well. 
Those are the men who walk in the footsteps of John ; those 
are his representatives. Peter is represented by the man who 
goes to holy communion once or twice in the year — going, per- 
haps, once at Easter or Christmas, and then returning to the 
world again. God grant that neither the world, nor the flesh, 
nor the devil will take possession of the days, or weeks, or years 
of the rest of his life ! he who gives — twice in the year, perhaps 
— hour or two to earnest communion with God, and for all 
the rest only a passing consideration, flashing momentarily 
across the current of his life. And what was the consequence ? 
John went up to Calvary, and took the proudest place that ever 
was given to man. Peter met, in the outer hall, a little servant- 
maid, and she said to him, " Thou also wast with Jesus of Naza- 
reth." The moment that the child's voice fell upon his ear, he de- 
nied his Master, and he swore an oath that he did not know Him. 

Now we come to the third grand attribute of John ; and it is 
to this, my friends, that I would call your attention especially. 
Tender as the love of this man was for his Master — his friend — 
mark how strong and how manly it was, at the same time. He 
does not stand aside. He will allow no soldier, or guard, 
or executioner, to thrust him aside, or put him away from 
his Master. He stands by that Master's side, when He 
stood before His accusers in the Praetorium of Pilate. He 
comes out. John receives Him into his arms, when, fainting 
with loss of blood. He retirrns, surrounded by soldiers, from 
the terrific scene of His scourging ; and, when the Cross 
is laid upon the shoulders of the Redeemer, with the crowd of 



TJie Groupings of Calva?y. 



citizens around Him — at His right hand, so close that He 
might lean upon him, if he would, is the manly form of St. John 
the Evangelist. Oh, think of the love that was in his heart, 
and the depth of his sorrow, when he saw his Lord, his Mas- 
ter, his friend, his only love, reduced to so terrible a state 
of woe, of misery, and of weakness ! This was the condi- 
tion of our divine Lord, when they laid the heavy cross upon 
His shoulder. How the Apostle of Love would have taken 
that painful and terrible crown, with its thorns, from off the 
brows to which they adhered, and set the thorns v^^on his own 
head, if they had only been satisfied to let him bear the pains 
and the sufferings of his Master and his God ! Oh, how 
anxious must he have been to take the load that was placed 
upon the unwilling shoulders of Simon of Cyrene ! Oh, how 
he must have envied the man who lifted the cross* from off the 
bleeding shoulders of the Divine Victim, and set it on his own 
strong shoulders, and bore it along up the steep side of Cal- 
vary ! With what gratitude must the Apostle have looked 
upon the face of Veronica, who, with eyes streaming with 
tears, and on bended knees, upheld the cloth on which the 
Saviour imprinted the marks His divine countenance ! Yet, who 
was this man? who was this man who received the blow as the 
criminal who was about to be executed ? Who is this man who 
takes the place of shame? Who is this man who is willing to 
assume all the opprobrium and all the penalty that follows 
upon it? He is the only one of the Twelve Apostles that is 
publicly known. We read in the gospels that the Apostles 
were all poor men, taken out of the crowd by our Lord. The 
only one amongst them who had made some mark, who was 
noted, who was remembered for something or another, was St. 
John. And by whom was he known ? He was known, says 
the Evangelist — to the high-priest. He was so well known to 
him, and to his guards, and to his officers, and to his fellow- 
priests, that when our Lord was in the house of Annas, John 
entered as a matter of course ; and when Peter, with the rest, 
was shut out, all that John had to do was to speak a word to 
the doorkeeper and bring in Peter. He was well known to the 
chief magistrates — well known to the men in power — well 
known to the chief senators. Oh, John ! John ! be prudent! 
Remember that you are a noted man, so that you will be set 



TJie Groupings of Calvary. 



133 



down by the men in power, for shame perhaps, or indignity, or 
even death, if you are seen with Jesus Clirist in this hour. 
Consult your own interests. Don't be rasli. There is no know- 
ing what may happen you." Oh, this is the language of the 
world. This is the language which we hear day after day. 
''Prudence and caution!" ''No necessity to parade our re- 
ligion !" " No necessity to be thrusting our Catholicity before 
the world !" " No necessity to be constantly unfurling the ban- 
ner on which the Cross of Christ is depicted — the Cross on 
which He died to save the souls of men." " No necessity for 
all this. Let us go peacefully with the world ! Let us worship 
in secret. Let us go on Sunday to Mass quietly ; and let the 
world know nothing about it !" Oh, how noble the answer of 
him whom all the world knew! How noble the soul of him 
who stood by the Lord, when he knew he was a noted man, 
and that, sooner or later, his fidelity on that Good Friday 
morning would bring him into trouble ! Ah, how glorious 
the action of the man who knew he was compromising 
himself! that he was placing his character, his liberty, his 
very life in jeopardy ! That he was suffering, perhaps, in the 
tenderest intimacy and friendship ! That he was losing him- 
self, perhaps, in the esteem of those worldly men who thought 
they were doing a wise, a proper, and a prudent thing when they 
sent the Lord to be crucified. He stands by his Master. He 
says, in the face of this whole world, " Whoever is His enemy, 
I am His friend. Whatever is His position to-day, I am His 
creature; and I recognize Him as my God!" And so he trod, 
step by step, with the fainting Redeemer, up the rugged sides 
of Calvary. We know not what words of love and of strong man- 
ly sympathy he may have poured into the afflicted ear of Christ. 
We know not how much the drooping humanity of our Lord 
may have been strengthened and cheered in that sad hour by 
the presence of the faithful and loving John ! Have you ever 
been in great affliction, my friends? Has sorrow ever come 
upon you with a crushing and an overwhelming weight ? Have 
you ever lacked heart and power in great difficulty, and seen no 
escape from the crushing weight of anxiety that was breaking 
your heart? Do you not know what it is to have even one 
friend — one friend on whom you can rely with perfect and ini- 
plicit confidence — one friend who, you know, believes in }-ou 



134 



TJie Groupings of Calvary, 



and loves you, and whose love is as strong as his life? One 
friend who, you know, will uphold you even though the whole 
world be against you ? Such was the comfort, such the conso- 
lation that it was the Evangelist's privilege to pay to our Lord 
on Calvary. No human prudence of argument dissuaded him. 
He thought it — and he thought rightly — the supreme of wisdom 
to defy, to despise, and to trample upon the world, when that 
world was crucifying his Lord and Master. Highest type of 
the man, saying from out the depths of his own conscience, 
I am above the world !" Let every man ask himself this 
night, and answer the question to his own soul : " Do I imitate 
the purity, do I imitate the love, do I imitate the courage or 
the braver}^ of this man, of whom it is said that he was " the 
disciple whom Jesus loved?" He got this reward. He got this 
reward exceeding great. Ah, how little did he know — great as 
his love was — how little did he know the gift that was in store 
for him — and that should be given him by his dying Lord ! 
Little did he know of the crowning glory that was reserved to 
him at the foot of the Cross. How his heart must have 
throbbed within him with the liveliest emotions of delight, 
mingled in a stormy confusion with the greatness of his sorrow, 
when, from the lips of his dying Master, he received the com- 
mand : " Son, behold thy Mother !" — and with eyes dimmed with 
the tears of anguish and of love, did he cast his most pure, most 
loving, and most reverential glance upon the forlorn Mother of 
the dying Son ! What was his ecstasy when he heard the voice 
of the dying Master say to Mary : Oh, mother, look to John, 
my brother, my lover, my friend ! Take him for thy son !" To 
John he says : Son, I am going away, I am leaving this wo- 
man the most desolate of all creatures that ever walked the 
earth. True, she is to me the dearest object in heaven or on 
earth. Friend, I have nothing that I love so much! Friend, 
there is no one for whom I have so much love as I have for her ! 
And to you do I leave her! Take her as your mother, Oh, 
dearly beloved !" John advanced one step — the type and the 
prototype of the new man redeemed by our Lord — the man 
whose glory it was to be — that he was Mary's Son ! He ad- 
vances a step until he comes right in front of his dying Lord, 
and he approaches Mary the Mother, in the midst of her sor- 
row, and flings himself into her loving arms. And the newly- 



TJlc Groupings of Calvary. 



135 



found son embraces his heavenly mother, whilst from the cruci- 
fied Lord the drops of blood fall down upon them and cement 
the union between His Church and His Holy Mother, in 
which the mystery of the Incarnation is made perfect by com- 
pletest adoption and brotherhood with the Son of God. 

The scene at Calvary I will not touch upon, or describe. The 
slowly passing minutes of pain, of anguish, and of agony that 
stretched out these three terrible hours of incessant suffering — 
of these I will not speak. But, when the scene was over ; 
w^hen the Lord of Glory and of Love sent forth His last cry ; 
• when the terrified heart of the Virgin throbbed with alarm as 
she saw the centurion draw back his terrible lance and thrust it 
through the side of her Divine Son ; when all this was over, 
and wdien our Lord was taken down from the Cross, and his 
body placed in Mary^'s arms — after she had washed away the 
blood-stains with her tears — after she had taken off the crown 
of thorns from His brow, and when they had laid Him in the 
tomb — the desolate mother put her hands into those of her 
newly-found child, St. John, and with him returned to Jerusa- 
lem. The glorious title of " The Child of Mary " was now his : 
and with this precious gift of the dying Redeemer he rejoiced 
in Mary's society and in Mary's love. The Virgin was then, 
according to tradition, in her forty-ninth year. During the 
twelve years that she survived with John, she w^as mostly in 
Jerusalem, whilst he preached in Ephesus, one of the cities of 
Asia Minor, and founded there a church, and held the chair as 
its first Apostle and Bishop. He founded a church at Philippi, 
and a church at Thessalonica, and many of the churches in x*\sia 
Minor. His whole life, for seventy years after the death of his 
Divine Lord, was spent in the propagation of the Gospel and in 
the establishing of the Church. But for twelve years more the 
Virgin Mother was with him, in his house, tenderly surrounding 
him with every comfort that her care could supply. Oh, think 
of the raptures of this household ! Every glance of her virginal 
eyes upon him reminded her of Him who was gone — for John 
was like his Divine Master. It was that wonderful resemblance 
to Christ which the highest form of grace brings out in the man. 
Picture to yourselves, if you can, that life at Ephesus, when the 
Apostle, w^orn down by his apostolic preaching, fatigued and 
wearied from his constantly proclaiming the victor}' and the love 



136 



The Groupings of Calvary. 



of the Redeemer, returned to the house and sat down, whilst 
Mary with her tender hand wiped the sweat from his brow, and 
these two, sitting together, spoke of the Lord, and of the mys- 
teries of the hfe in Nazareth ; and from Mary's Hps he heard of 
the mysteries of the thirty years of love in the lowly house of 
Nazareth, and of how Joseph had died and Jesus had labored 
for her in his stead. From Mary's lips he heard the secrets — ■ 
the wonderful secrets of her Divine Son ; until, filled with in- 
spiration, and rising to the grandest and most glorious heights 
of divinely inspired thought, he proclaimed the Gospel that 
begins with the wonderful words, " In the beginning was the 
Word," denoting and pointing back to the eternity of the Son 
of God. Picture to yourselves, if you can, how Mary poured 
out to John, years after the death of our Lord, her words of 
gratitude for the care with which he surrounded her, and of all 
her gratitude to him for all that he had done in consoling and 
upholding her Divine Child in the hour of His sorrow ! Oh, this 
surpasses all contemplation. Next to that mystery of Divine 
Love, the life in Nazareth with her own Child, comes the life 
she lives in Ephesus with her second, her adopted son, St. John 
the Evangelist. He passed to heaven, first amongst the virgins, 
says St. Peter Damen, — first in glory as first in love, enshrined 
to-day in the brightest light that surrounds the virgin choirs of 
heaven ! Now, now he sings the songs of angelic joy and angelic 
love ; and he leaves to you and to me — as he stands, and as 
we contemplate him upon the Hill of Calvary — the grand and 
the instructive lesson of how the Christian man is to behave 
toward his Lord and his God ; living in Christian purity — in the 
Christ-given strength of divine love — and in that glorious world- 
despising assertion of the divinity and of the love of Jesus 
Christ ; which, trampling under foot all mere human respect, 
lives and glories in the friendship of God, and in the possession 
of His holy faith and the practice of His holy religion — not 
blushing for Him before man ; and thus gaining the reward of 
• Him who says : And he that confesses Me before men, the 

same will I confess before My Father in heaven.*' 




"CHRIST ON CALVARY." 



[Preached on Good Friday evening, March 2gth, 1872, in the Dominican Church, 
New York, to the largest audience ever assembled within its walls. Not only was the 
church packed with the earnest multitude ; outside the doors were congregated hun- 
dreds who could not gain admission, yet lingered in the hope of catching even the 
echoes of the voice of the preacher.] 

" All you that pass this way, come and see, if there be any sorrow like unto my 
sorrow." 

HESE words are found in the Lamentations of the 
prophet Jeremiah. There was a festival, dearly be- 
loved brethren, ordained by the Almighty God, for the 
tenth day of the seventh month of the Jewish year ; 
and this festival was called the Day of Atonement." Now, 
amongst the commandments that the Almighty God gave con- 
cerning the Day of Atonement," there was this remarkable 
one : Every soul," said the Lord, that shall not be afflicted 
on that day, shall perish from out the land." The command- 
ment that He gave them was a commandment of sorrow, because 
it was the day of the atonement. The day of the Christian atone- 
ment is come — the day of the mighty sacrifice by which the 
world was redeemed. And if, at other seasons, we are told to 
rejoice, in the words of the Scripture, " rejoice in the Lord; I 
say to you again, rejoice," to-day, with our holy mother, the 
Church, we must put off the garments of joy, and clothe our- 
selves in the robes of sorrow-. And now, before we enter upon 
the consideration of the terrible sufferings of our Lord Jesus 
Christ — all that he endured for our salvation — it is necessar}*, 
my dearly beloved brethren, that we should turn our thoughts 
to the victim whom we contemplate this night, dying for our 
sins. That victim was our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, the 
Son of God. When the Almighty God, after the first two 




138 



CJirist on Calvary. 



thousand years of the world's history, resolved to destroy 
the whole race of mankind, on account of their sins, He flooded 
the earth ; and, in that universal ruin. He wiped out the sin by 
destroying the sinners. Now, in that early hour of God's first 
terrible visitation, the water that overwhelmed the whole world, 
and destroyed all mankind, came from three sources. First of 
all, we are told, that God, with His own hand, drew back the 
bolts of heaven, and rained down water from heaven upon the 
earth. Secondly, we are told, that all the secret springs and 
fountains that were in the bosom of the earth itself, burst and 
came forth — '' the fountains of the great abyss burst forth," says 
Holy Writ. Thirdly, we are told, that the great ocean itself 
overflowed its shores and its banks, and the sea uprose until the 
waters covered the mountain-tops. In like manner, dearly 
beloved brethren, in the inundation, the deluge of suffering and 
sorrow that came upon the Son of God, made man, we find that 
the flood burst forth from three distinct sources. First of all, from 
heaven, the Eternal Father sending doAvn the merciless hand of 
justice, to strike His own Divine Son. Secondly, from Christ 
our Lord himself. As from the hidden fountains of the earth, 
sending forth their springs, so, from amid the ver}- heart and 
soul of Jesus Christ — from the very nature of His being 
— do we gather the greatness of His suffering. Thirdly, 
from the sea rising — that is to say, from the malice and 
wickedness of man. Behold, then, the three several sources 
of all the sufferings that Ave are about to contemplate. 
A just and angry God in heaven ; a most pure and holy and 
loving ]\Ian-God upon earth, having to endure all that hell 
could produce of most wicked and most demoniac rage against 
Him. God's justice rose up — for, remember, God was angry 
on this Good Friday — the Eternal Father rose up in heaven, in 
all His power — He rose up in all His justice. Before Him Avas 
a victim for all the sins that ever had been committed ; before 
Him was the victim of a fallen race; before Him, in the x^xy 
person of Jesus Christ Himself, were represented the accumu- 
lated sins of all the race of mankind. Hitherto, we read in 
the Gospel, that, when the Father from heaven looked down 
upon His own Divine Child upon the earth, He was accus- 
tomed to send forth His voice in such language as this: " This 
is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." Hitherto, no 



Christ on Calvary, 



139 



sin, no deformity, no vileness was there, but the beauty of 
heaven itself in that fairest form of human body — in that 
beautiful soul, and in the fullness of the divinity that dwelt in 
Jesus Christ. Well might the Father exclaim: "This is my 
beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased !" But, to-day — oh, 
to-day I the sight of the beloved Son excites no pleasure in the 
Father's eyes — brings forth no word of consolation or of love 
from the Father's lips. And why? Because the all-holy and 
all-beloved Son of God, on this Good Friday, took upon Him 
the garment of our sins — of all that His Father detested upon 
this earth ; all that ever raised the quick anger of the Eternal 
God ; all that ever made Him put forth His arm, strong in 
judgment and in vengeance — all this is concentrated upon the 
sacred person of Him who became the victim for the sins of 
men. How fair He seems to us, when we look up to that 
beautiful figure of Jesus — how fair He seemed to His Virgin 
Mother, even when no beauty or comeliness was left in Him — 
how fair He seemed to the Magdalen, again, who saw Him 
robed in His own crimson blood. The Father in heaven saw 
no beauty, no fairness in His Divine Son, in that hour ; He 
only saw in Him and on Him all the sins of mankind, which 
He took upon Himself that He might become for us a Saviour. 
Picture to yourselves, therefore, first, this mighty fountain of 
divine wrath that was poured out upon the Lord ! It was the 
Father's hand — the hand of the Father's justice — outstretched 
to assert His rights, to restore to Himself the honor and the 
glory of which the sins of all men, in all ages, in all climes, had 
deprived Him. Picture to yourselves that terrible hand of God 
drawing back the bolts of heaven, and letting out on His own 
Divine Son the fury of this wrath that was pent up for four 
thousand years ! We stand stricken with fear in the contem- 
plation of the anger of God, in the first great punishment of 
sin, the universal deluge. All the sins that in ever>^ age roused 
the Father's anger were actually visible to the Father's eyes on 
the person of His Divine Son. We stand astonished and 
frightened when we see, with the eyes of faith and of revelation, 
the living fire descending from heaven upon Sodom and Go- 
morrha ; the balls of fire floating in the air, thick as the de- 
scending flakes in the snowstorm ; the hissing of the flames as 
they came rushing down from heaven, like the hail that comes 



140 



Christ on Calvary. 



down in the hailstorm ; the roaring of these flames, as they 
filled the atmosphere ; the terrible, lurid light of them ; the 
shrieks of the people, who are being burned up alive ; the 
lowing of the tortured beasts in the fields ; the birds of the air 
falling, and sending forth their plaintive voices, as they fall to 
earth, their plumage scorched and burned. All the sins that 
Almighty God, in heaven, saw in that hour of His wrath, when 
he rained down fire — all these did He see, on this Good 
Friday morning, upon His own Divine and adorable Son. All 
the sins that ever man committed were upon Him, in the hour 
of His humiliation and of His agony, because He was truly 
man ; because He Avas a voluntary victim for our sins ; be- 
cause He stepped in between our nature, that was to be de- 
stroyed, and the avenging hand of the Father, lifted for our 
destruction ; and these sins upon Him became an argument to 
make the Almighty God in heaven forget, in that hour, every 
attribute of His mercy, and put forth against His Son all the 
omnipotence of His justice. Consider it well ; let it enter into 
your minds — the strokes of the divine vengeance that would 
have ruined you and me, and sunk us into hell for all eternity, 
w^ere rained by the unsparing hand of omnipotence, in that 
hour, upon our Lord Jesus Christ. 

The second fountain and source from which came forth the del- 
uge of His sorrow and His suffering, was His own divine heart, 
and His own immaculate nature. For, remember. He was as truly 
man as He was God. From the moment Mary received the 
Eternal Word into her womb, from that moment Christ, the 
Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, was as truly man as He 
was God ; and in that hour of His Incarnation, a human body 
and a human soul were created for Him. Now, first of all, 
that human soul that he took was the purest and most perfect 
that God could make — perfect in every natural perfection — in 
the quickness and comprehensiveness of its intelligence — in the 
large capacity for love in its human heart — in the great depth 
of its generosity and exalted human spirit. Nay, more, the 
very body in which that blessed soul was enshrined was so 
formed that it was the most perfect body that was ever given to 
man. Now, the perfection of the body in man lies in a deli- 
cate organization — in the extreme delicacy of fibre, muscle, and 
nerve ; because they make it a fitting instrument in order that 



Christ on Calvary. 



141 



the soul within may inspire it. The more perfect, therefore, 
the human being is, the more sensitive is he to shame, the 
more deeply does he feel degradation, the more quickly do dis- 
honor and humiliation, like a two-edged sword, pierce the 
spirit. Nay, the more sensitive he is to pain, the more does he 
shrink away naturally from that which causes pain ; and that which, 
would be pain to a grosser organization is actual agony, is actual 
torment, to the perfect man, formed Avith such a soul that at the 
very touch of his body the sensitive soul is made cognizant of 
pleasure and of pain, of joy and of sorrow. What follows from 
this? St. Bonaventure, in his ''Life of Christ," tells us that 
so delicate was the sacred and most perfect body of our Lord, 
that even the palm of His hand or the sole of His foot was 
more sensitive than the inner pupil of the eye of any ordinary 
man ; that even the least touch caused him pain ; that every 
ruder air that visited that divine face brought to Him a sense 
of exquisite pain that ordinary men could scarcely experience. 
Add to this that in Him was the fullness of the Godhead, 
realizing all that was beautiful on earth ; realizing, with infinite 
capacity, the enormity of sin ; realizing every evil that ever fell 
upon nature in making it accessible to sin ; and, above all, 
taking in, to the full extent of its eternal duration, the curse, 
the reprobation, and damnation that falls upon the wicked — oh, 
how many sources of sorrow are here? Here is the heart of 
the man — Jesus Christ — here is the fullness of the infinite sanc- 
tity of God — here, the infinite horror that God has for sin. 
For this man is God ! Here, therefore, is at once the indigna- 
tion, the infinite repugnance, the actual sense of horror and de- 
testation which, amounting to an infinite, passionate repug- 
nance, absorbed the whole nature of Jesus Christ in one act of 
violence against that which is come upon Him. Now, every 
single sin committed in this world comes and actually effects, 
as 'it were, its lodgment in the soul and spirit of Jesus. At 
other times. He may. rest, as He did rest, in the Virgin's arms 
— for she was sinless ; at other times He may allow sin and the 
sinner to come to His feet and touch Him ; but, by that very 
touch, she was made as pure as an angel of God. But, to-day, 
this infinitely holy heart — this infinitely tender heart, must open 
itself to receive — no longer simply to purify, but to assume and 
atone for all the sins of the world. 



142 



Christ on Calvary. 



The third great source of His suffering was the rage and the ma- 
lice of men. They tore that sacred body ; they forgot every instinct 
of humanity ; they forgot every dictate, every ordinance of the 
old law, to lend to their outrages all the fury of hell, when they 
fell upon Him, as the Scripture says, Like hungry dogs of 
chase upon their prey." He is now approaching the last sad 
day of His existence ; He is now about to close His life in suffer- 
ings which I shall endeavor to put before you. But, remember, 
that this Good Friday, with all its terrors, is but the end of a 
life of thirty-three years of agony and of suffering ! From the 
moment when the Word was made flesh in Mary's womb, from 
the moment when the Eternal God became man, even before 
He was born, the cross, the thorny crown, and all the horrors 
that were accomplished on Calvary were steadily before the eyes 
of Jesus. The Infant in Bethlehem saw them ; the Child in 
Nazareth saw them ; the Young Man, toiling to support His 
mother, saw them ; the Preacher on the mountain-side beheld 
them. Never, for a single instant, were the horrors that were 
fulfilled on Good Friday morning absent from the mind or the 
contemplation of Jesus Christ. Oh, dearly beloved brethren, 
well did the Psalmist say of Him, My grief and my sorrow is 
always before me ;" well the Psalmist said, " I have, during my 
whole life, walked in sorrow; I was scourged the whole day!" 
That day was the thirty-three years of His mortal life. Picture 
to yourselves what that life of grief must have been. There was 
the Almighty God in the midst of men, hearing their blasphe- 
mies, beholding their infamous actions, fixing His all-pure and 
all-holy eyes on their licentiousness, their ambition, their avarice, 
their dishonesty, their impurity. And so the very presence of 
those He came to redeem was a constant source of grief to Jesus 
Christ. Moreover, He knew well that He came into the world to 
suffer, and only to suffer. Every other being created into this world 
was created for some joy or other. There is not, even in hell,- a 
creature whom Almighty God intended, in creating, for a life 
and an eternity of misery ; if they are there, they are there by 
their own act, not by the act of God. Not so with Christ. His 
sacfed body was formed for the express and sole purpose that it 
might be the victim for the sins of man, and the sacrifice for the 
world's redemption. Sacrifice and oblation," He said, Thou 
wouldst not, O God : but Thou hast prepared a body for me/' 



CJirist 071 Calvary. 



H3 



Coming into the world," says St. Paul, He proclaimed, ' for 
this I am come, that I may do Thy will, O Father.' " The Fa- 
ther's will was that He should suffer ; and for this was He created. 
Therefore, as He was made for suffering — as that body was 
given to Him for no purpose of joy, but only of suffering, expia- 
tion, and of sorrow — therefore it was that God made Him capa- 
ble of a sorrow equal to the remission He was about to grant. 
That was infinite sorrow. 

And now, dearly beloved, having considered these things, we 
come to contemplate that which was always before the mind of 
Christ — that from which He knew there was no escape — that 
which was before Him really, not as the future is before us, 
when we anticipate it and fear it, but it comes indistinctly and 
confusedly before the mind ; not so with Christ : every single 
detail of His Passion, every sorrow that was to fall upon Him, 
every indignity that was to be put upon His body — all, in the 
full clearness of their details, were before the eyes of the Lord 
Jesus Christ for the thirty-three years of His life. 

As the sun was sloping down towards the western horizon on 
the evening of the vigil of the Pasch, behold our divine Lord 
with His Apostles around Him ; and there, seated in the midst 
of them, He fulfilled the last precept of the law, in eating the 
Paschal lamb ; and (as we saw last evening) He then changed 
the bread and wine into His own Body and Blood, and fed His 
Apostles with that of which the Paschal lamb was but a figure 
and a promise. Now, they are about to separate in this world. 
Now, the greatest act of the charity of God has been performed. 
Now, the Lord Jesus Christ is living and palpitating in the 
heart of each and every one of these twelve. Now — horror of 
horrors ! — He is gone into the heart of Judas ! Arising from the 
table, our Lord took with Him Peter, and James, and John, and 
He turned calmly and deliberately to enter the Red Sea of His 
Passion, and to wade through His own blood, until He landed 
upon the opposite shore of pardon and mercy and grace, and 
brought with Him, in His own sacred humanity, the whole 
human race. Calmly, deliberately, taking His three friends with 
Him, He went out from the supper-hall, as the shades of even- 
ing were deepening into night, and He walked outside the walls 
of Jerusalem, where there was a garden full of olive-trees, that 
was called Gethsemane. The Lord Jesus was accustomed to go 



144 



on Calvary. 



there to pray. Many an evening had He knelt within those 
groves ; many a night had He spent under the shade of these 
trees, filhng the silent place with the voice of His cries and 
prayer, before the Lord, His Father, to obtain pardon and mercy 
for mankind. Now, he goes there, now, for the last time ; and 
as He is approaching — as soon as ever He catches sight of the 
garden — as soon as the familiar olives present themselves to His 
eyes. He sees — what Peter, and James, and John did not see — 
He sees there, in that dark garden, the mighty array — the 
mighty, tremendous array of all the sins that ever were committed 
in this world, as if they had taken the bodily form of demons 
of hell. There they were now, waiting silently, fearfully, with 
eyes glaring with infernal rage ; and He saw them. And 
amongst them was He, the Lord God, to go ? Amongst them 
must He go ? No wonder that the moment He caught sight 
of that garden. He started back, and turning to the three Apos- 
tles, He said : " Stand by Me now, for My soul is sorrowful 
unto death." And, leaning upon the virgin bosom of John, 
who was astonished at this sudden and awful trial of his Master, 
He murmured unto him, " My soul is sorrowful unto death ! 
Stand by Me," He saj^s, and watch with Me, and pray!" The 
man — the man, proving His humanity, which belonged to Him 
as truly as His divinity ; the man, turning to and clinging to 
His friends — gathering them around Him at that terrible mo- 
ment when He was about to face His enemies, He cries, " Stand 
by me ! stand by me ! and support me, and watch, and .pray 
with me !" And then, leaving them, alone He enters the gloomy 
place. Summoning all the courage of God — summoning to His 
aid all the infinite resources of His love — summoning the great 
thought that if He was about to be destroyed, mankind was 
to be saved. He dashes fearlessly into the depths of Geth- 
semane ; and when He was as far from His Apostles as a man 
could throw a stone, there, in the dark depths of the forest, the 
Lord Jesus knelt down and prayed. What was His prayer? 
Oh, that army of sins was closing around Him ! Oh, the 
breath of hell was on His face ! There did He see the busy 
demons marshalling their forces — drawing closer and closer 
to Him all the iniquities of men. ''Oh, Father!" He cries 
— " Oh, Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass away 
from me !" But he immediately added — Not My will but 



Christ on Calvary. 



145 



Thine be done?" Then turning — for the Father's will was 
indicated to Him in the voice from heaven, with the first tone 
of anger upon it, the first word of anger that Jesus ever heard 
from His Father's lips, saying : It is My will to strike Thee! 
Go !" He turned ; He bared His innocent bosom ; He put out 
His sinless hands, and, turning to all the powers of hell, al- 
lowed the ocean-wave of sin to flow in upon Him and over- 
whelm Him. The lusts and wickedness of men before the 
flood, the impurities of Sodom and Gomorrha, the idolatries 
of the nations, the ingratitude of Israel — all the sins that ever 
appeared under the eyes of God's anger — all — all ! — like the 
waves of the ocean, coming in and falling upon a solitary man 
who kneels alone on the shore — all fell upon Jesus Christ. He 
looks upon Himself, and He scarcely recognizes Himself now. 
Are these the hands of the Son of God, scarcely daring to up- 
lift themselves in prayer, for they are red w^ith ten thousand 
deeds of blood ? Is this the Heart of Jesus, frozen up with 
unbelief, as if He felt what He could not feel — that He was the 
personal enemy of God ? Is this the sacred soul of Jesus Christ, 
darkened for the moment Avith the errors and the adulteries of 
the whole world? In the halls of His memory nothing but the 
hideous figures of sin ! — desolation, broken hearts, weeping 
eyes, cries of despair, dire blasphemies ; — these are the things 
He sees w^ithin Himself; that He hears in His ears I It is a 
world of sin around Him. It is a raging of demons about Him. 
It is as if sin entered into His blood. Oh, God ! He bears it 
as long as a suffering man can bear. But, at length, from out 
the depths of His most sacred heart — from out the very divinity 
that was in Him — the fountains of the great deep were moved, 
and forth came a rush of blood from every pore. His eyes can 
no longer dwell on the terrible vision. He can no longer look 
upon these red scenes of blood and impurity. A weakness 
comes mercifully to His relief. He gazes upon the fate that 
God has put upon Him ; and then He falls to the earth, writh- 
ing in His agony ; and forth from every pore of His sacred 
frame streams the blood ! Behold Him ! Behold the blood 
as it oozes out through His garments, making them red as those 
of a man who has trodden in the wine-press ! Behold Him, as 
His agonizing face lies prone upon the earth. Behold Him, as, 
in the hour of that terrible agony, His blood reddens the soil of 

10 



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Gethsemane ! Behold Him, as He writhes on the ground — one 
mass of streaming blood — sweating blood from head to foot — 
crying out in His agony for the sins of the whole world ! A 
mountain of the anger of God is upon Him. Behold Him in 
Gethsemane, O Christian man ! Kneel down by His side ! Lie 
down on that blood-stained earth, and for the love of Jesus 
Christ, whisper one word of consolation to Him ! For, remem- 
ber that you and I were there — were there, and He saw us — 
even as He sees us in this hour, gathered under the roof of 
this church. He saw us there in our quality of sinners, with 
every sin that ever we committed — as if it were a stone in our 
uplifted hand flung down upon His defenceless form ! When 
Acan was convicted of a crime, Joshua gave word that every 
man of the Jewish nation should take a stone in his hand, and 
fling it at him ; and all the people of Israel came and flung them 
upon him, and put him to death. So every son of man, from 
Adam down to the last that was born on this earth — every son 
of man — every human being that breathed the breath of God's 
creation in this world, was there, in that hour, to fling his sins, 
and let them, fall down upon Jesus Christ. All, all — save one. 
There was one whose hand was not lifted against him. There 
was one who, if she had been there, could be only there to help 
Him and to console Him. But no help, no consolation in that 
hour ! Therefore, Mary, the only sinless one, was absent. He 
rises after an hour. No scourge has been yet laid upon that 
sacred body. No executioner's hand has profaned Him as yet. 
No nail had been driven through His hands. And yet the 
blood covered His body — for His Passion began from that 
source to which I have alluded — His own divine spirit ! His 
Passion — His pain — began from within.* He rises from the 
earth. What is this which we hear ? There is a sound, as of 
the voices of a rabble. There are hoarse voices filling the 
night. There are men with clubs in their hands, and lanterns 
lighted. They come with fire and fury in their eyes, and the 
universal voice is, Where is He? Where is He?" Ah, there 
is one at the head of them ! You hear his voice. Come 
cautiously ! I see Him. I will point Him out to you ! There 
are four of them. There He is, with three of His friends. 



Vide Newman, " Mental Sufferings of our Lord in his Passion." 



Christ on Calvary. 



When you see me take a man in my arms and kiss him, He is 
the man ! Lay hold of Him at once, and drag Him away with 
you — and do what you please!" Who is he that says this ? 
Who are they that come like hell-hounds, thirsting for the blood 
"of Jesus Christ ? That come with the rage of hell in their 
blood, and in their mouths ? They are come to take Him and 
to tear Him to pieces ! Who is this that leads them on ? Oh, 
friends ! Oh, friends and men ! it is Judas, the Apostle ! Judas, 
who spent three years in the society of Jesus Christ ! Judas, 
that was taught by Him every lesson of piety and virtue, by 
word and by example. Judas, who received the priesthood. 
Judas, upon whose lips, even now, blushes the sacred blood re- 
ceived in Holy Communion ! Oh, it is Judas ! And he has 
come to give up his Master, whom he has sold for thirty pieces 
of silver. He went, after his unworthy communion, to the 
Pharisees, and he said: ''What will you give me, and I will 
sell, betray to you? — give Him up?" He put no price upon 
Jesus. He thought so little of his Master that he was prepared 
to take anything they would offer. They offered him thirty 
small pieces of silver; and he clutched at the money. He 
thought it was a great deal, and more than Jesus Christ was 
worth ! Now he comes to fulfil his portion of the contract ; 
and he points the Lord out by going up to him — putting his 
traitor lips upon the face of Jesus Christ, and stamping upon 
that face the kiss of a false-hearted, a wicked and a traitorous 
follower. Behold him now. The Son of God sees him ap- 
proach. He opens his arms to him. Judas flings himself in 
his Master's arms, and he hears the gentle reproach — Oh, last 
proof of love ! — Oh, last opportunity to him to repent — even in 
this hour! — Judas, is it with a kiss thou betrayest the' Son of 
Man ?" 

Now, the multitude rushes in upon Him and seizes Him. 
We have a supplement to the Gospel narrative in the revela- 
tions of many of the Saints and of holy souls, who, in reward 
for their extraordinary devotion to the Passion of our Lord, 
were favored wdth a closer sight of His sufferings. Now, we are 
told by one of these, whose revelations, though not yet ap- 
proved, are tolerated by the Church, that when our divine 
Lord gave Himself into the hands of His enemies, they bound 
His sacred arms with a rope, and rushed toward the city, 



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Chj'ist on Calvary. 



dragging along with them, forcibly and violently, the exhausted 
Redeemer. Exhausted, I say, for His soul had just passed 
through the agony of His prayer, and His body was still drip- 
ping with the sweat of blood. Between that spot and Jerusalem 
flowed the little stream called the Brook of Kedron. When 
they came to that little stream our Saviour stumbled, and fell 
over a stone. They, without waiting to give Him time to rise, 
pulled and dragged Him on with all their might. They literally 
dragged him through the water, wounding and bruising his 
body by contact with the rocks that were in the river's bed. It 
was night when they brought him into Jerusalem. That night 
a cohort of Roman soldiers formed the body-guard of Pilate. 
They were called archers ; men of the most corrupt and terrible 
vices ; men without faith in God or man ; men whose every 
word was either a blasphemy or an impurity. These men, who 
were only anxious for amusement, when they found the prisoner 
dragged into Jerusalem at that hour, took possession of him for 
the night, and they brought Him to their quarters ; and there 
the Redeemer was put, sitting in the midst of them. During 
the whole of that long night, between Holy Thursday and Good 
Friday morning, the soldiers remained sleepless, employed in 
loud revel, in their derision and torture of the Son of God. 
They struck Him on the head. They spat upon Him. They 
hustled Him Avith scorn from one to another. They bruised 
Him. They wounded Him in every conceivable form. Here, 
silent as a lamb before the shearer, was the Eternal Son of God, 
looking out, Avith eyes of infinite knowledge and purity, upon 
the very vilest of men that all the iniquity of this earth could 
bring around Him. 

He was brought before the high-priest. He was asked to 
answer. The moment the Son of God opened His lips to 
speak — the moment he attempted to testify — a brawny soldier 
came out of the ranks, stepped before our Divine Lord, and 
saying to Him: Answerest thou the high-priest thus?" drew 
back his clenched, mailed hand, with the full force of a strong 
man, flinging himself forward, struck Almighty God in the face ! 
The Saviour reeled, stunned by the blow. The morning came. 
Now He is led before Pilate, the Roman governor, who alone has 
power to sentence Him to death, if He be guilty; and who has 
the obligation to protect Him and to set Him at liberty, if He 



Christ on Calvary. 



149 



be innocent. The Scribes and the Pharisees were there, the 
leaders of the people; and the rabble of Jerusalem was with 
them ; and in the midst of them was the silent, innocent victim, 
who knew that the sad and terrible hour of His crucifixion was 
upon Him. Brought before Pilate, He is accused of this crime 
and that. Witnesses are called ; and the moment they come — 
the moment they look upon the face of God — they are unable 
to give testimony against Him. They could say nothing that 
proved Him guilty of any crime : and Pilate, enraged, turned 
to the Pharisees, and said : ^' What do you bring this man here 
for ? Why is he bound ? Why is he bruised and maltreated ? 
What has he done ? I find no crime, or shadow of a crime in 
Him." He is not only innocent, but the judge declares, be- 
fore all the people, that the man has done nothing whatever to 
deserve any punishment, much less death. How is this sentence 
received? The Pharisees are busy amongst the people, whisper- 
ing their calumnies, and prompting them to cry out, and say : 
" Crucify Him ! crucify Him ! We want to have Jesus of Naza- 
reth crucified ! We want to do it early, because the evening will 
come and bring the Sabbath with it ! We want to have his 
blood shed ! Quick ! Quick ! Tell Pilate he must condemn 
Jesus of Nazareth, or else he is no friend to Caesar ! " The 
people cry out : ''Let Him be crucified! If you let Him go 
you are no friend of Csesar ! " What says Pilate? ''Crucify 
your King ! He calls Himself ' King of the Jews.' You, your- 
selves, wished to make Him your King, and you honored Him. 
Am I to crucify Him whom you would have for King? Am I 
to crucify your King? " And then — then, in an awful moment, 
Israel declared solemnly that God was no longer her King ; for 
the people cried out : " He is not our King ! ~ We have no King 
but Csesar! " We have no King but Caesar! The old cry of 
the man who, committing sin, says : " I have no King but my 
own passions ; I have no King but this world ; I have no King 
but the thoughts of money, or of honors, or of indulgence ! " 
So the Jews cried : " He is no King of ours ; we have no King- 
but Caesar ! " Pilate, no doubt in a spirit of compromise, said 
to himself, " I see this man cannot escape. I see murder in 
these people's eyes ! They are determined upon the crucifixion 
of this man, and, therefore, I must try to find out some way or 
another of appealing to their mercy." Then he thouglit to him- 



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Christ on Calvary. 



self, I will make an example of Him. I will tear the flesh off 
His bones. I will cover Him with blood. I will make Him 
such a pitiable object that not one in all that crowd will have 
the heart to demand further punishment, or another blow for 
Him." So he called his officers, and said: ''Take this man, 
and scourge Him so as to make Him frightful to behold ; let 
Him be so mangled that when I show Him to the people they 
may be moved to pity and spare His life, for He is an innocent 
man." In the cold, early morning, the Lord is led forth into 
the court-yard of the Pr^torium, and there sixty of the strong- 
est men of the guard are picked out, — chosen for their strength ; 
and they are told off into thirty pairs, and every man of the 
sixty has a new scourge in his hand. Some have chains of iron ; 
some, cords knotted, with steel spurs at the end of them ; others, 
the green, supple twig, plucked from the hedge in the early 
morning, — long, and supple, and terrible, armed with thorns. 
Now, these men come and close around our Lord. They strip 
Him of His garments ; they leave Him perfectly naked, blush- 
mg in His infinite m.odesty and purity, so that He longs for them 
to' begin in order that they may robe Him in His blood. They 
tie His hands to a pillar ; they tie Him so that He cannot move, 
nor shrink from a blow, nor turn aside. And then the two first 
advance ; they raise their brawny arms in the air ; and then, 
with a hiss, down come the scourges upon the sacred body of 
the Lord ! Quicker again and quicker these arms rise in the 
air with these terrible scourges. Each stroke leaves its livid 
mark. The flesh rises into welts. The blood is congealed, and 
purple beneath the skin. Presently, the scourge comes down 
again, and it is followed by a quick spurt of blood from the 
sacred body of our Lord — the blows quickening, and without 
pause, and without mercy ; the blood flowing after every addi- 
tional blow, — till these two strong men are fatigued and tired 
out, — until their scourges are soddened, and saturated, and 
dripping with His blood, do they still strike Him, — and then, 
retire, exhausted, from their terrible labor ; — in comes another 
pair — fresh, vigorous, fresh arms and new men — com-e to rain 
blows upon the defenceless body of the Lord, upon His sacred 
limbs — upon His sacred shoulders. Every portion of His sacred 
body is torn : every blow brings the flesh from the bones, and 
opens a new wound and a new stream of blood. Now He stands 



Christ on Calvary. 



ankle deep in His own blood, — hanging out from that pillar, ex- 
hausted, with head drooping, almost insensible. He is still 
beaten, — even when the very men who strike Him think, or 
suspect, that they may have killed Him. It was written in the 
Old Law, If a man be found guilty," says the Lord in Deuter- 
onomy, *4et him be beaten, and let the measure of his sin be 
the measure of his punishment; yet, so that no criminal receive 
more than forty stripes, lest thy brother go away shamefully 
torn from before thy face! " These were the words of the law. 
Well the Pharisees knew it ! And there they stood around in 
the outer circle, with hate in their eyes, fury upon their lips ; 
and even when the very men who were dealing out their revenge 
thought they had killed the victim they were scourging, still 
came forth from these hardened hearts the words of encourage- 
ment : " Strike Him still ! Strike Him still! " And there they 
continued their cruel task until sixty men retired, fatigued and 
worn out with the work of the scourging of our Lord. 

Now, behold Him, as senseless He hangs from that pillar, 
one mass of bruised and torn flesh ! — one open wound, from the 
crown of His head to the soles of His feet ! — all bathed in the 
crimson of His own blood, and terrible to behold! If you saw 
Him here, as He stood there ; if you saw Him now, standing 
upon that altar, — there is not a man or woman amongst you 
that could bear to look upon the terrible sight. They cut the 
cords that bound Him to the pillar ; and the Redeemer fell 
down, bathed in His own blood, and senseless upon the ground. 
Behold Him again, as at Gethsemane ; now, no longer the pain 
from w^ithin, but the pain from the terrible hand of man — the 
instrument of God's vengeance. Oh, behold Him ! Mary heard 
those stripes and yet she could not save her Son. Mary's heart 
went down with Him to the ground, as He fell from that pillar 
of His scourging! Oh, behold Him, you mothers ! You fathers, 
behold the Virgin's Child, your God — Jesus Christ ! The sol- 
diers amused themselves at the sight of His sufferings, and scoffed 
at Him as He lay prostrate. Recovering somewhat, after a time 
He opened His languid eyes and rose from that ground, — rose, 
all torn and bleeding. They throw an old purple rag around 
His shoulders, and they set Him upon a stone. One of them 
has been, in the meantime, busily engaged in twisting and twin- 
ing a crown made of some of those thorns which they had pre- 



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CJiJ'ist on Calvary, 



pared for the scourging, — a crown in which seventy-two long 
thorns were put, so that they entered into the sacred head of 
our Lord. This crown was set upon His brow. Then a man 
came with a reed in his hand and struck those thorns deep into 
the tender forehead. They are fastened deeply in the most 
sensitive organ, where pain becomes maddening in its agony. 
He strikes the thorns in till even the sacred humanity of our 
Lord forces from Him the cry of agony ! He strikes them in 
still deeper! — deeper! Oh, my God ! Oh, Father of Mercy! 
And all this opens up new streams of blood ! — new fountains of 
love ! The blood streams down, and the face of the Most High 
is hidden under its crimson veil. Now, now, indeed, Oh Pilate, 
— Oh wise and compromising Pilate, — now, indeed, you have 
gained your end ! You have proved yourself the friend of 
Caesar. Now, there is no fear but that the Jews, when they see 
Him, will be moved by compassion ! They bring Him back and 
they put Him standing before the Roman governor. His rugged 
Pagan heart is moved within him with horror when he sees the 
fearful example they have made of Him. Frightened when he 
beheld Him, he turned away his eyes ; the spectacle was too 
terrible. He called for water and washed his hands. " I declare 
before God," he says, " I am innocent of this man's blood ! " 
He leads Him out on the balcony of his house. There was the 
raging multitude, swaying to and fro. Some are exciting the 
crowd, urging them to cry out to crucify Him ; some are prepar- 
ing the Cross, others getting ready the hammer and nails, some 
thinking of the spot where they would crucify Him ! There 
they were, arguing with diabolical rage. Pilate came forth in 
his robes of office. Soldiers stand on either side of him. Two 
soldiers bring in our Lord. His hands are tied. A reed is put 
in His hand in derision. Thorns are on His brow. Blood is 
flowing from every member of His sacred body. An old, tattered 
purple rag is flung over Him. Pilate brings Him out, and, look- 
ing round on the multitude, says: Ecce homo! Behold the 
man ! You said I was no friend to Caesar. You said I was 
afraid to punish Him ! Behold Him now ! Is there a man 
amongst you who would have the heart to demand more pun- 
ishment ? " Oh, heaven and earth! Oh, heaven and earth! 
The cry from out every lip, from out every heart, is : We are 
not yet satisfied! Give Him to us! Give Him tons! \Ve 



Christ on Calvary. 



153 



will crucify Him I " " But," says Pilate, I am innocent of His 
blood ! " And then came a word — and this word has brought 
a curse upon the Jews from that day to this. Then came the 
word that brought the consequences of their crime on their hard 
hearts and blinded intellects. They cried out, " His blood be 
upon us and upon our children ! Crucify Him ! " But," says 
Pilate, here is a man in prison ; he is a robber and a murderer ! 
And here is Jesus of Nazareth whom I declare to be innocent! 
One of these I must release. Which will you have — Jesus or 
Barabbas?" And they cried out " Barabbas ! give us Barabbas ! 
But let Jesus be crucified ! " Here is compared the Son of God 
to the robber and the murderer. And the robber and murderer 
is declared fit to live, and Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is de- 
clared fit only to die I The vilest man in Jerusalem declared in 
that hour that he would not associate with our Lord, and that 
the Son of God was not worthy to breathe the air polluted by 
this man ! So Barabbas came forth, rejoicing in his escape ; and, 
as he mingled in the crowd, he, too, threw up his hands and 
cried out, " Oh, let Him be crucified ! Let Him be crucified I" He 
is led forth from the tribunal of Pilate. And, now, just outside of 
the Prefect's door, there are men holding up a long, weighty, rude 
cross, that they had made rapidly ; for they took two large beams, 
put one across the other, fastened them with great nails, and made' 
it strong enough to uphold a full-grown man. There is the cross ! 
There is the man with the nails ! And there are all the accom- 
paniments of the execution. And He who is scarcely able to 
stand — He, bruised and afflicted — the IMan of Sorrows, fainting 
with infirmity, is told to take that cross upon his bleeding, 
wounded shoulders, and to go forward to the mountain of Cal- 
vary. Taking to him that cross, holding it to His wounded 
breast, putting to it in tender kisses the lips that were distilling 
blood, the Son of God, with the cross upon His shoulders, 
turns His faint and tottering footsteps toward the steep and 
painful way that led to Calvary. Behold Him as He goes forth ! 
That cross is a weight almost more than a man can carr}^ ; and 
it is upon the shoulders of one from whom all strength and 
manliness are gone. Behold the Redeemer, as He toils pain- 
fully along, amid the shouts and shrieks of the enraged people. 
Behold Him as he toils along the flinty way, the soldiers driv- 
ing Him on. the people inciting them, ever}- one rushing and 



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CJirist on Calvary. 



hastening to Calvary, to witness the execution. John, the be- 
loved, follows Him. A few of his faithful followers toil along. 
But there is one who traces each of His blood-stained footsteps ; 
there is one who follows Him with a breaking heart ; there is 
one whose very soul within her is pierced and torn with the 
sword of sorrow. Oh, need I name the Mother, the Queen of 
Martyrs ! In that hour of his martyrdom, Mary, the mother of 
Jesus, followed immediately in His footsteps, and her whole 
soul went forth in prayer for an opportunity to approach Him, 
to wipe the blood from His sacred face. Oh, if they would 
only let her come to Him, and say, My child ! I am with 
you !" If they would only let her take in her womanly arms, 
from off the shoulders of her dear Son, that heavy cross that 
He cannot bear! But, no! She must witness His misery; 
she must witness His pain. He toils along ; He takes the first 
few steps up the rugged side of Calvary. Suddenly His heart 
ceases to beat ; the light leaves His eyes ; He sways, for a 
moment, to and fro ; the weakness and the sorrow of death are 
upon Him ; He totters, falls to the earth ; and down, with a 
heavy crash, comes the weighty cross upon the prostrate form 
of Jesus Christ ! Oh, behold Him, as for the third time, He 
embraces that earth which is sanctified and redeemed by His 
love ! Mary rushes forward ; Mary thinks her child is dead ; 
she thinks that terrible cross must have crushed him into the 
earth. She rushes forward ; but with rude and barbarous words 
the woman is flung aside. The cross is lifted up and placed on 
the shoulders of Simon of Cyrene ; and with blows and blas- 
phemies, the Saviour of the world is obliged to rise from that 
earth, and, worn with the sorrows and afflictions of death, faces 
the rugged steep on the summit of which is the place destined 
for His crucifixion. Arrived at the place, they tear off His 
garments ; they take from Him the seamless garment which 
His mothers loving hands had woven for Him ; they take the 
humble clothing in which the Son of God had robed Himself — 
saturated, steeped as it is in His blood ; and in removing them 
they open afresh every wound, and once again the saving blood 
of Christ is poured out upon the ground. With rude, blasphe- 
mous words, the God-man is told to lie down upon that cross. 
Of His own free will He stretches His tender limbs, puts forth 
His hands, and stretches out His feet at their order. The ex- 



CJirist on Calvary. 



155 



ecutioners take the nails and the hammer, and they kneel upon 
His sacred bosom ; they press out His hands till they bring the 
palms to where they made the holes to fit the nails. They 
stretch Him out upon that cross, even as the Paschal Lamb was 
stretched out upon the altar ; they kneel upon the cross ; they 
lay the nails upon the palms of His hands. The first blow 
drives the nail deep into His hands, the next blow sends it into 
the cross. Blow follows blow. They are inflamed with the 
rage of hell. Earnestly they work — and hell delights in the 
scene — tearing the muscles and the sinews of His hands and 
feet. Rude, terrible blows fall on these nails, and re-echo in 
the heart of the Virgin, until that heart seems to be broken 
at the foot of the cross. And now, when they have driven 
these nails to the heads, fastening Him to the wood, the 
cross is lifted up from the ground. Slowly, solemnly, the 
figure of Jesus Christ, all red with blood, all torn and dis- 
figured, rises into the air, until the cross, attaining its full 
height, is fixed into its socket in the earth. The banner of 
salvation is flung out over the world ; and Jesus Christ, the 
Son of God, and the Redeemer of mankind, appears in mid-air, 
and looks out over the crowd and over Jerusalem, over hill and 
valley, far away towards the sea of Galilee, and all around the 
horizon ; and the dying eyes of the Saviour are turned over the 
land and the people for whom He is shedding His blood. Up- 
lifted in mid-air — the eternal sacrifice of the Redeemer for ever- 
lasting — hanging from these three terrible nails on the Cross — 
for three hours He remained. Every man took up his position. 
Mary, His Mother, approaches, for this is the hour of her agony ; 
she must suffer in soul what He suffers in body. John, the dis- 
ciple of love, approaches, and takes his stand under his Master's 
outstretched hands. Mary Magdalen rushes through the guards, 
to the feet of her Lord and Master ; they are now bathed with 
other tears — with the tears of blood that save the world ; the 
feet which it was her joy to weep over ! And now she clasps 
the cross, and pours out her tears, until they mingle with the 
blood which flows down His feet. There are the Pharisees and 
the Scribes, who had gained their point ; they come and stand 
before the Cross ; they look upon that figure of awful pain and 
misery ; they see those thorns sunk deeply into that drooping 
head, with no love in their hearts ; they see the agon\^ ex- 



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Christ on Calvary. 



pressed in the eyes of the victim who is dying; and then, look- 
ing up exultingly, they rejoice and say to Him : You said you 
could destroy the Temple, and build it up in three days ; now, 
come down from the cross, and we will believe in and worship 
you." The Roman soldier stood there, admiring the courage 
with which the man died. The third hour is approaching. 
The penitent thief on His right hand had received his pardon. 
A sudden gloom gathers round the scene. Before we come to 
the last moment, I ask you to consider Jesus Christ as your 
God. I ask you to consider the sacrifice that He made, and to 
consider the circumstances under which He approached that 
last moment of His life. All He had in the world was some 
little money ; it was kept to give to the poor ; Judas had that, 
and he had stolen it. Christ had literally nothing but the 
simple garments with which He had been clothed ; these the 
soldiers took, and they raffled for them under His dying eyes. 
What remained for Him? The love of His Mother; the sym- 
pathy of John ? But He, uplifted on the cross, said to Mary, 
Woman, behold thy son !" And to John He said, Son, be- 
hold thy mother !" Thus I give one to the other; let that 
love suffice ; and leave Me all alone and abandoned to die." 
What remained to Him ? His reputation for sanctity, for wis- 
dom, and for power? His reputation for sanctity was so great, 
that the people said : This man never could do such things if 
He had not come from God." And as to his wisdom. His 
reputation for wisdom was such that we read, not one of the 
Pharisees or doctors. of the law had the courage to argue with 
Him. His reputation for power was such that the people all 
said : This man speaks and preaches, not as the Pharisees, 
but as one having power." Christ had sacrificed and given up 
His reputation for sanctity, for He was crucified as a blasphe- 
mer and a teacher of evil. His reputation for wisdom was 
sacrificed in the course of His Passion, when Herod declared 
that He was a fool. Clothed in a white garment in derision, 
He was marched through the streets of Jerusalem, from 
Herod's palace to Pilate's house, dressed as a fool ; and men 
came to their doors to point the finger of scorn and laugh at 
Him, and reproached each other for having listened to His 
doctrine. His reputation for powder was gone. They came to 
the foot of the cross and said : Now, if you have the power. 



Christ on Calvary. 



157 



come down from that cross and we will believe you." Now, 
all the man's earthly possessions are gone ; His few garments 
are gone ; Mary's love and her sustaining compassion are gone ; 
His reputation is gone ; He is one wound, from head to foot ; 
the anger of man has vented itself upon Him. What remains 
for Him? The ineffable consolations of His divinity; the 
infinite peace of the God-head, the Father I Oh, IMan of 
Sorrow ! Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, cling to that ! Whatever 
else may be taken from you, that cannot be taken away. Oh, 
Master, lean upon Thy God-head ! Oh, crucified, bleeding, 
dying Lord, do not give up that which is Thy peace and Thy 
comfort — Thy joy in the midst of all this suffering ! But what 
do I see ! The dying head is lifted up ; the drooping eyes are 
cast heavenwards ; an expression of agony absorbing all others 
comes over the dying face, and a voice breaks forth from the 
quivering, agonized lips : My God ! My God ! why hast 
Thou forsaken Me !" The all-sufficient comfort of the divinity 
and the sustaining power of the Father's love are put away 
from Him in that hour! A cloud came between Jesus 
Christ upon the Cross, the victim of our sins, and the 
Father's face in heaven ; and that cloud was the concentrated 
anger of God which came upon His divine Son, because of our 
sins and our transgressions. Not that His divinity quitted Him. 
No ; He was still God ; but by His own act and free w^ll, He 
put away the comfort and the sustaining power of the divinity 
for a time, in order that every element of sorrow, every grief, 
every misery of which the greatest victim of this earth was capa- 
ble, should be all concentrated upon Him at the hour of His 
death. And then, having used these solemn words, He awaited 
the moment when the Father's will should separate the soul 
from the body. Now, Mary and John have embraced ; Judas 
is struggling in the last throes of his self-imposed death ; Peter 
has wept his tears. The devil for a moment triumphs ; and the 
man-God upon the cross awaits the hour and the moment of the 
world's redemption. The sun in the heavens is withdrawn be- 
hind mysterious clouds ; and though it was but three o'clock in 
the day, a darkness like that of midnight came upon the land. 
Men looked upon each other in horror and in terror. Presently 
a rumbling noise was heard ; and they looked around and saw 
the hills and the mountains tremble on their bases ; the very 



158 



Christ on Calvary. 



ground seemed to rock beneath them ; it groans as though the 
earth were breaking up from its centre ; the rocks are sphtting 
up, and round them strange figures are flitting here and there ; 
the graves are opened, and the dead entombed there are walking 
in the dark ways before them. What is this ? Who is this 
terrible man that we have put up on that cross ? The earth 
quakes ; darkness is still upon it ; perfect silence reigns over 
Calvary, unbroken by the cry of the dying Redeemer — unbroken 
by the voice of the scoffers — unbroken by the sobs of the Mag- 
dalen. Every heart seems to stand still. Then, over that 
silence, in the midst of that darkness, is heard the loud cry, 
Oh, Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit !" The 
head of the Lord Jesus Christ droops : the Man upon the cross 
is dead ; and the world is saved and redeemed ! The moment 
the cry came forth from the dying lips of Jesus Christ, the devil, 
who stood there, knew that it was the Son of God who was 
crucified, and that his day was gone. Howling in despair he 
fled from the Redeemer's presence into the lowest depths of 
hell. The world is saved. The world is redeemed. Man's sin 
is wiped out. The blood that washed away the iniquity of our 
race has ceased to flow from the dead and pulseless heart of 
Jesus. Wrapt in prayer, Mary bowed down her head under the 
weight of her sorrows. The Magdalen looked up and beheld 
the dead face of her Redeemer. John stretched out his hands 
and looked upon that face. The Roman soldier lays hold of 
his lance, under some strange impulse. Word comes that the 
body was to be taken down ; they did not know whether our 
Lord was dead ; there might yet some remnant of life remain in 
Him ; the question was to prove that He was dead, and this 
man approaches. As a warrior, he puts his lance in rest, rushes 
forward with all the strength of his arm, and drives the lance 
right into the heart of the Lord ! The heavy cross sways ; it 
seems as if it was about to fall ; the lance quivers for an instant 
in the wound ; the man draws it forth again; and forth from 
the heart of the dead Christ streamed the waters of life and the 
blood of redemption. The soldier drew back his lance, and the 
next moment, on his knees, before the Crucified, with the lance 
dripping with the blood of the Lord still in his hand, he cried out, 
"Truly, this man was the Son of God!" Then the earthquake 
began again ; the dead were seen passing in fearful array, turning 



Christ on Calvary. 



159 



the eyes of the tomb upon the- faces of those Pharisees who had 
crucified the Lord. And the people, frightened, became con- 
scious that they had committed a terrible crime, when they 
heard Longinus, the Roman soldier, cry out, This Man is truly 
the Son of God, whom you have crucified." Then came down 
from Calvary the crowds, exclaiming, " Yes, truly, this is the Son 
of God." And they went down the hill- side, weeping and beating 
their breasts. Oh, how much we cost ! Oh, how great was the 
price that He paid for us ! Oh, how generously He gave all He 
had — and He was God — for your salvation and mine ! It is well 
to rejoice and be here ; it is well to come and contemplate the 
blessings which that blessed, gracious Lord has conferred on us. 
It is, also, well to consider what He paid and how much it cost 
Him. And if we consider this, then, with Mary, the mother, 
and Mary, the Magdalen, and John, the Evangelist and friend 
— then will our hearts be afflicted. For the soul that is not 
afflicted on this day, shall be wiped out from the pages of the 
Book of Life. 



TEMPERANCE. 



[Discourse delivered before the Convention of the New Jersey Catholic Total Ab- 
stinence Union, in St. John's Church, Paterson, on Thursday, April 25th, 1872.] 

Y FRIENDS : I have more than once had the honor 
of addressing a congregation of fellow-Catholics and 
fellow-countrymen since I came to the United States. 
I have spoken to them on various subjects, all of them 
important, but never have I been entrusted with a more import- 
ant subject than that of the Christian and Catholic virtue of 
temperance. I cannot forget that most of you, if not all of you, 
are of my own race and my own blood. It is a race of which 
none of us need be ashamed. Perhaps our brightest glory, next 
to that of our Catholic faith, is the drop of Irish blood that is in 
our veins. And I have more than once asked myself. What is 
it that condemns this race, whom God has blessed with so much 
intellect and genius, upon whom He has lavished so many of 
His highest and holiest gifts, crownirig all with that gift of na- 
tional faith, that magnificent tenacity that, in spite of all the 
powers of earth or hell, has clung to the living Christ and His 
Church — what is it that has condemned this race to be in so 
many lands the hewers of wood and the drawers of water ? 

QucE regio in terris nostri non plena laborisf Where is the 
nation, or the land, on the face of the earth, that has not wit- 
nessed our exile and our tears ? And how is it that, whilst this 
man or that man rises to eminence and prosperity, we so often, 
though, thank God, not always, find that the Irishman, by some 
fatality or other, is destined to be a poor man, a struggling 
man ? Well, there may be many reasons for this undoubted 
fact. It may be our generosity, and I admit that it enters 
largely as a reason. It may be a certain — if I may use the ex- 




Temperance. 



i6i 



pression in this sacred edifice — a certain devil-may-care kind of 
a spirit — " come day, go day, God send Sunday" — that doesn't 
take much heed or much concern to the scraping together of 
dollars in this world. But amongst the causes of our depression 
there certainly is one, and that is the fatal vice of intemperance. 
Now, mark me, my friends, I do not say that we drink more 
than our neighbors. I have lived amongst English and Scotch- 
men, and I believe that, as a race — as a nation — the Scotchmen 
drink more than the Irishmen. -I have often and often seen a 
Scotchman at it, and he could drink three Irishmen blind. But, 
somehow or other, people of other lands have a trick of sticking 
to the beer or the porter, and that only goes into their stomachs 
and sickens them ; whilst the Irishman goes straight for the 
poteen or the whiskey ; and that gets into his brain and sets 
him mad. 

Now, my friends, I want to speak to you as a glorious, most 
honorable body of Catholics — mostly of Irishmen — banded to- 
gether as one man, for one purpose ; and that purpose is to vin- 
dicate the honor of our manhood, of our religion, and of our 
nationality, by means of the glorious virtue of self-restraint, or 
of temperance. And I say that I congratulate you as a society, 
as the component elements of a largely-spread association or 
society, because in this our day everything goes by association. 
In every department, in every walk of commercial or social life, 
we have what in this country are called rings," circles, associa- 
tions, societies. Get up a railway ; you must have a ring." 
Open a canal ; you work it by a ring." Start a political idea ; 
you bring it prominently before the people by a " ring." Elect 
an officer to some public office ; it must be done by a ring." 
The world that we live in nowadays is a world of associations ; 
and, unfortunately for us, most of these associations are in -the 
hands of the devil. God must have His ; the Church must have 
hers ; and men must save themselves, in this our day, just as so 
many lose themselves, by association. And, therefore, it is 
necessary, for the purpose of strengthening oneself in good re- 
solutions, and of spreading the light of good example around 
him, that in such a society as this, a man should act on his fel- 
low-man by association. Now, if you wish to know the glorious 
object for which you are associated in this grand temperance 
movement ; if you wish to know the magnificent purpose which 

11 



Temperance. 



you should have in view, all you have to do is to reflect with 
me upon the consequence and the nature of intemperance, 
against which you have declared war. Let me depict to you, 
as well as I can, what intemperance is — what drunkenness is ; 
and then I shall have laid a solid foundation for the appeal 
which I make to you, not only personally to persevere in this 
glorious cause of temperance, but to try, every man of you, like 
an evangelist of this holy gospel, to gather as many as you can 
of your friends and associates, and of those whom your influence 
reaches, to become members of this most salutary and honorable 
body. No man can value a virtue until he knows the deep 
degradation of the opposite vice. 

Now, man has three relations : namely, his relations to God 
who made him, and who redeemed him upon the Cross ; his 
relations to his neighbor ; and his sacred relations to himself. 
Consider the vice of intemperance — how it affects this triple 
relation of man. First of all, my friends, what is our relation 
to God ? I answer, if we regard Almighty God as our Creator, 
we are made in His image and likeness ; if we regard Him as 
our Redeemer, we are His brothers, in the human nature which 
He assumed for our salvation. Consider your relations to God 
as your Creator. The Almighty God, in creating all His other 
creatures on the earth, simply said, ''Fiat'' — Let it be — and 
the thing was made. " Let there be light," said the Almighty 
God, breathing over the darkness ; immediately, in the twink- 
ling of an eye, the glorious sun poured forth his light ; the 
moon took up her reflection, which she was to bear for all ages 
of time ; and every star appeared, like glittering gems, hanging 
in the newly-created firmament of heaven. God said, Let 
there be life," and instantly the sea teemed with its life; the ^ 
bird took living wings and cleaved the air ; the earth teemed 
with those hidden principles of life that break forth in the 
spring-time, and cover hill and dale with the verdure that 
charms the human eye. But, when it was the question of 
creating man. Almighty God no longer said, " Let him be ;" 
but he said — taking counsel, as it were, with Himself — '' Let us 
make man in our own image and likeness." And then " Unto 
His own image He made him, forming his body from the slime 
of the earth " — the body which is as nothing ; and breathing 
from His divine lips the breath of life, which, in the soul of 



Temperance. 



163 



man, bears the image of God, in being capable of knowledge, 
in being capable of love, in the magnificent freedom of will in 
which God created man. Behold the image of God reflected in 
man. God is knowledge ; God is love — the purest, the highest, 
the holiest, and most benevolent love — eternal and infinite love. 
God is freedom. Man has power of knowledge, in his intellect ; 
power of the highest and purest love in his heart, in his affec- 
tions ; freedom in action. In these three we are the image of 
God. 

Now, my friends, it is a singular fact that the devil may 
tempt a man in a thousand ways. He may get him to violate 
the law of God in a thousand ways ; but he cannot rob him of 
the Divine image that the law of God set upon him, in reason, 
in love, and freedom. The demon of pride may assail us ; but 
the proudest man retains those three great faculties in which 
his manhood consists ; for man is the image of God. The 
image of God is in him ; his intelligence, love, and freedom are 
the quintessence of his magnificent human nature that the devil 
must respect. Just as of old the Lord gave to the devil the 
powder to strike His servant. Job ; to afflict him ; to cover him 
with ulcers ; to destroy his house and his children ; but com- 
manded him to respect his life — not to touch his life, — so 
Almighty God seems to say to the veiy devils of hell : You 
may lead man, by temptations, into whatsoever sins ; but you 
must respect his manhood ; he must still remain a man." To 
all except one I There is one devil alone — one terrible demon, 
alone, who is able not only to rob us of that Divine grace by 
which we are children of God, but to rob us of ever}-' essential 
feature of humanity, in taking away from us the intelligence by 
which we know% the affection by which we love, the freedom by 
which we act as human beings, as we are. Who is that demon ? 
Who is the enemy not only of God but of human nature ? 
Who is the powerful one who, alone, has the attribute, the in- 
fernal privilege, not only of robbing the soul of grace, but of 
taking from the whole being — from the time he asserts his 
dominion there — every vestige and feature of humanity? It is 
the terrible Demon of Intemperance. He, alone, can lift up 
his miscreated brow and insult the Almighty God, not only as 
the author of grace, but as the ver>^ author of nature. Ever}' 
other demon that tempts man to sin may exult in the ruin of 



164 



Temperance. 



the soul ; he may deride and insult Almighty God for the 
moment, and riot in his triumph ; insult Him as the author of 
that grace which the soul has lost. The demon of drunken- 
ness, alone, can say to Almighty God : Thou, alone, O Lord, 
art the fountain — the source — the Creator of nature and of 
grace. What vestige of grace is here ? I defy you, I defy the 
world, to tell me that there is a vestige even of humanity!" 
Behold the drunkard. Behold the image of God, as he comes 
forth from the drinking saloon, where he has pandered to the 
meanest, vilest, and most degrading of the senses — the sense 
of taste. He has laid down his soul upon the altar of the 
poorest devil of them all — the devil of gluttony. Upon that 
altar he has left his reason, his affections, and his freedom. Be- 
hold him, now, as he reels forth, senseless and debauched, from 
that drinking-house ! Where is his humanity ? Where is the 
image of God ? He is unable to conceive a thought. He is 
unable to express an idea, with his babbling tongue, which 
pours forth feebly, like a child, some impotent, outrageous blas- 
phemy against heaven I Where are his affections ? He is in- 
capable of love ; no generous emotion can pass through him ; 
no high and holy love can move that degraded, surfeited heart. 
The most that can come to him is the horrible demon of im- 
purity, to stir up within him every foulest and grossest desire 
of animal lust. Finally, Avhere is his freedom ? Why, he is 
not able to walk I not able to stand I he is not able to guide 
himself! If a child came along, and pushed him, it would 
throw him down. He has no freedom left — no will. If, then, 
the image of the Lord in man be intelligence — in the heart and 
in the will — I say this man is no man. He is a standing re- 
proach to our humanity. He is a deeper and bitterer degrada- 
tion to us even than the absurd theory of Darwin, the English 
philosopher, who tells us that we are descended from apes. I 
would rather consider my ancestor an ape than see him lying 
in the kennel, a drunken man. Such a one have I seen. I 
have seen a man in the streets, lying there drunk — beastly 
drunk ; and I have seen the very dogs come and look at him — ■ 
smell him — wag their tails, and walk off. They could walk, but 
he could not. 

And is this the image of God ? Oh, Father in heaven I far be 
it from me to outrage Thee by saying that such a beast as this 



Temperance. 

is Thy image ! No ; he is no longer the image of God, because 
he has lost his intelligence. What says the Holy Ghost, — " Man 
when he was in honor understood not — he hath been compared 
to senseless beasts and made like to them," no longer the image 
of God, for his intelligence is gone — but only a brute beast. 

And if such be the outrage that this demon of intemperance 
is able to put upon God, the Creator, what shall we say of the 
outrage upon God as the Redeemer? Not contented with being 
our Creator and our Sovereign Lord and Master, — with having 
conferred upon us the supreme honor of being in some degree 
like unto Him, — Almighty God, in the greatness of His love, 
came down from heaven and became man ; was incarnate by the 
Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary, and was made man. He became 
our brother, our fellow and companion in Nature. He took to 
Him our humanity in all its integrity, save and except the human 
person. He took a human soul, a human body, a human heart, 
human affections, human relations — for He was truly the Son 
of His Virgin Mother. And thus He became, says St. Paul, 
" the first-born amongst many brothers." He who yesterday 
was but a worm, a mere creature of God, a mere servant of 
God, and nothing more, — to-day, in the sacred humanity of our 
Lord, becomes associated in brotherhood with Christ, the Son 
of the Eternal God. As such He can share our sorrows and our 
joys: we may give Him human pain and human pleasure. If 
we are all that true men ought to be — all that Christian men 
ought to be — the honor and glory goes to Christ, the author 
* and finisher of our faith, who in His sacred humanity purchased 
grace for us at the cost of His most precious blood. If, on the 
other hand, we degrade ourselves, cast ourselves down, lie down 
at the feet of the devils, and allow them to trample upon us — 
then, my dear friends, the dishonor falls not only upon us, but 
through us upon the nature and humanity that Christ our Lord 
holds, as He is seated at the right hand of His Father. Oui 
shame falls upon Him, because He was man ; and so our honor, 
our sanctity, is reflected back from Him, because it can only 
come to us from His most sacred humanit}'. Therefore, I add^ 
that this sin of drunkenness has a particular and a special enor- 
mity in the Christian man ; for, what we are, Christ, the Son of 
God, became. We are men ; He became man. If we degrade 
ourselves to the level of the beasts of the field, and beneath 



i66 



Temperance. 



them, then we are degrading, casting down, that sacred human- 
ity which Christ took to Him at His Incarnation. The Son of 
God respected it so much — He respected human nature so 
much — that He took it with Him into heaven, and seated it at 
the right hand of God. The drunkard disrespects the same 
nature so much, that he drags it down and puts it beneath the 
very beasts of the field. Therefore, a special and, specific dis- 
honor does this sin, above all others, do to our Lord and Re- 
deemer. More than this, the Son of God became man, in order 
that He might bring down from heaven the mercy and the grace 
that was necessary for our salvation. The mercy of God, my 
friends, is His highest attribute, surpassing all His works. The 
greatest delight of God is to exercise that mercy. It is natu- 
ral to Him," says the great St. Thomas Aquinas — and, there- 
fore, it is the first of His works ; for it is the first prompting of 
the nature of God. The mercy of God prompted Him to become 
man. Now, the greatest injury that any man can offer to Christ 
our Redeemer, is to tie up His hands and to oblige Him to re- 
fuse the exercise of His mercy. This is the greatest injury we 
can offer to God ; to tell the Almighty God that He must not 
— nay, that He cannot — be merciful. There is only one sin, and 
one sinner, alone, that can do it. That one sin is drunkenness ; 
that one sinner is the drunkard — the only man that has the 
omnipotence of sin, the infernal power to tie up the hands of 
God, to oblige that God to refuse him mercy. I need not prove 
this to you. You all know it. No matter what sin a man com- 
mits — if, in the very act of committing it, the Almighty God 
strikes him — one moment is enough to make an act of contri- 
tion, to shed one tear of sorrow, and to save the soul. The 
murderer, even though expiring with his hands reddened with 
his victim's blood, can send forth one cry for mercy, and in that 
cry be saved. The robber, stricken down in the very midst of 
his misdeeds, can cry for mercy on his soul. The impure man, 
even while he is revelling in his impurity, if he feel the chilly 
hand of death laid upon him, and cry out, God be merciful 
to me a sinner!" — in that cry maybe saved. The drunkard 
alone — alone amongst all sinners — lies there dying in his drunk- 
enness. If all the priests and all the bishops in the Church of 
God were there, the}' could not give that man pardon or abso- 
lution of his sins, because he is incapable of it, — because he is 



Temperance. 



167 



not a man! Sacraments are for men, let them be ever so sinful 
— provided that they be men. You might as well absolve the 
four-footed beast as lift your priestly hand, my brethren, over 
the drunkard ! I remember once being called to attend a dying 
man. He was dying of delirium tremens ; and he was drunk. 
I went in. He was raving of hell, devils, and flames ; no God ! 
no mercy ! I stood there. The wife was there, breaking her 
heart. The children were there weeping. Said I, Why did 
you send for me for this man? What can I do for him? He 
is drunk ! He is dying ; but he is drunk ! If the Pope of Rome 
were here, what could he do for him, until he gets sober?" The 
one sin that puts a man outside the pale of God's mercy ! Long 
as that arm of God is, it is not long enough to touch with a mer- 
ciful hand the sinner who is in the state of drunkenness, And 
this is the greatest injury, I say again, that a man can offer to 
God, to say to Him, Lord, You may be just. I know that You 
don't wish to exercise Your justice; but You may. You may 
be omnipotent ; You may have every attribute. But there is 
one that You must not have, and must not exercise in my regard. 
I put it out of Your power. And that is the attribute that You 
love the most of all — the attribute of mercy." Thus the Father 
in heaven sees — Christ sees — in the drunkard. His worst and 
most terrible enemy. If, then, I say to you, as Christian men, 
and as Catholic men, if you love the God who created you — if 
you love the God who redeemed you — if .you respect the sacred 
image of God, which is in you — and if you respect the mercy 
of God, which alone can save you — oh, my friends, I ask you 
for all this, not, indeed, to be sober men — (for, thank God, you 
are that already) — but to be zealous, to be burning with zeal to 
make every man, and especially every Catholic man, sober and 
temperate as you are, by every influence and every power which 
you may bring to bear upon him. I say that, in this, ever\- 
Catholic man ought to be like a priest. When it is a question 
of confession or communion — when it is a question of any other 
Christian virtue — it is for us priests to preach it ; it is for us to 
impress it upon you ; but, when it is a question of the \-irtue 
which is necessary for our common humanity; when it is a ques- 
tion of putting away the sin that robs a man even of his human 
nature and his manhood — every man of }'ou is as much a priest 
of that manhood as I am, or any man who is within this sanctu- 



i68 



Temperance. 



ary. We are priests of the Gospel ; you, my friends, as well as 
we, are priests of humanity. 

Consider next the relation of man as to his neighbor. We 
are bound to love our neighbor — every man — I don't care who 
he is, or what he may be — he may be a Turk, he may be a 
INIormon, he may be an Infidel — but we must love him ; we are 
bound to love him. For instance, we are bound to regret any 
evil that happens to him ; because we are bound to have a cer- 
tain amount of love for all men. Well, in that charity which 
binds us to our neighbor, there is a greater and a lesser degree. 
A man must love with Christian charity all men. But there are 
certain individuals that have a special claim on his love, — that 
he is bound, for instance, not only to love but to honor, to wor- 
ship, to maintain. And who are they ? The father and the 
mother that bore us; and the wife that gave us her young heart 
and her young beauty ; the children that Almighty God gave 
us. These, my friends — these gifts of God given to you — the 
family, your wife, your children — have the first claim upon you, 
and they have the most stringent demand upon that charity 
concentrated, which, as Christians, you must still diffuse to all 
men. Any man that fails in his fraternal charity is no longer a 
child of God; for if any man say he loves God, and love not 
his neighbor, he is a liar, and the truth is not in him." Any 
man that hates his fellow-man, or injures him wilfully, is no 
child of God. 

Amongst those, I say, whom we are bound to love, are the 
wife — the children. And this is precisely the point wherein the 
drunkard, the intemperate man, shows himself more hard-heart- 
ed than the wild beast. The woman that, in her youth, and 
modesty, and purity, and beauty, put her maiden hand into his 
before the altar of God, and swore away to him her young heart 
and her young love ; the woman who had the trust in him to 
take him for ever and for aye ; the woman who, if you will, 
had the confiding folly to bind up with him all the dreams that 
ever she had of happiness, or peace, or joy in this world ; the 
woman that said to him, " Next to God and after God, I will 
let thee into my heart — and love thee and thee alone;" and, 
then, before the altar of God received the seal of sacramental 
grace upon that pure love — this is the woman, and her children 
and his children, to whom the drunkard brings the most terri- 



Temperance. 



169 



ble of all calamities — poverty, blighted beauty, premature old 
age, misery, a broken heart, sleepless eyes, ragged, wretched 
poverty of the direst form — the woman whom he swore to love, 
and to honor, and to cherish, and to render her the homage of his 
true and manly affection ! Oh, my friends, every other sin that 
a man may commit may bring against him the cry of some soul 
scandalized ; but the drunkard's soul must hear the accusing 
voice of the passionate cry of misery wrung from the broken 
heart, and the curse laid at the foot of the altar where the 
sacramental blessing was pronounced when the young heart of 
the wife was given away ! Such a one did I meet. Hear me, 
I was on a mission, some years ago, in a manufacturing town 
in England. I was preaching there eveiy evening; and a man 
came to me one night, after a sermon on this very subject of 
drunkenness. He came in — a fine man ; a strapping, healthy, 
intellectual looking man. But the eye was almost sunk in his 
head. The forehead was furrowed with premature wrinkles. 
The hair w^as white, though the man was evidently compara- 
tively young. He was dressed shabbily ; scarce a shoe to his 
feet, though it was a wet night. He came in to me excitedly, 
after the sermon. He told me his history. ''I don't know," 
he said, that there is any hope for me ; but still, as I was 
listening to the sermon, I must speak to you. If I don't speak 
to some one my heart will break to-night." What was his 
story } A few years before he had amassed in trade twenty 
thousand pounds, or one hundred thousand dollars. He had 
married an Irish girl — one of his own race and creed, young, 
beautiful, and accomplished. He had two sons and a daughter. 
He told me, for a certain time everything went on well. At 
last," he said, " I had the misfortune to begin to drink: neglect- 
ed my business, and then my business began to neglect me. 
The woman saw poverty coming, and began to fret, and lost 
her health. At last, when we were paupers, she sickened and 
died. I was drunk," he said, " the day that she died. I sat by 
her bedside. I was drunk when she was dying." The sons 
■ — what became of them ?" ''Well," he said, '' they were mere 
children. The eldest of them is no more than eighteen ; and 
they are both transported for robbeiy." ''The girl?" ''Well," 
he said, " I sent the girl to a school where she was well educat- 
ed. She came home to me when she was sixteen years of age, 



170 



Temperance, 



a beautiful young woman. She was the one consolation I had ; 
but I was drunk all the time." " Well, what became of her?" 
He looked at me. " Do you ask me about that girl?" he said, 
" what became of her?" And, as if the man w^as suddenly struck 
dead, he fell at my feet. ^' God of heaven! God of heaven! 
She is on the streets to-night — a prostitute !" The moment he 
said that word, he ran out. I went after him. Oh, no ! Oh, 
no !" he said ; " there is no mercy in heaven for me. I left my 
child on the streets!" He went away, cursing God, to meet a 
drunkard's death. He had sent a broken-hearted mother to 
the grave ; he sent his two sons to perdition ; he sent his only 
daughter to be a living hell ; and then he died blaspheming 
God! 

Finally, consider the evil that a man does to himself. Loss 
of health, first. You know the drunkard's death. You hear 
what it is. I have over and over again, on my mission — twenty- 
five years a priest, naturally enough, I must have met all sorts 
of cases — I have, over and over again, had to attend many dy- 
ing from drink ; and I protest to you, I have never yet attended 
a man dying of delirium tremens^ that, for a fortnight after, I 
was not struck as with an ague at what I had witnessed. On 
one occasion, a priest attended a man. He had sense enough 
to sit up in the bed and say, You are a priest ?" He said, 
''Yes, I am." ''Oh," he said, "I am glad of it. Tell me; I 
want to know one thing. I want to know if you have the 
Blessed Sacrament with you ?" " I have." The moment he 
said so, the man sprang out of the bed, on to the floor, crying 
out like a maniac : " Oh ! take away that God ! take away 
that God ! That man has God with him. There is no God for 
me !" He was dead before the priest left the room, crying out 
to the last, "There is no God for me !" 

The drunkard loses health, loses reputation, loses his friends, 
loses his wdfe and family, loses domestic happiness, loses every- 
thing ; And in addition to this, brings upon himself the 
slavery that no power on earth, and scarcely — be it said with 
reverence — any power in heaven, can seem to be able to de- 
stroy ; all this is the injury that man inflicts upon himself by 
this terrible sin — the worst of all, as you may easily imagine, 
What a glorious mission yours is ! You have raised the stand- 
ard in defiance to this demon that is destroying the whole- 



Temperance. 



171 



world. You have declared that your names shall be enrolled as 
a monument against the vice of drunkenness. You have, 
thereby, asserted the glory of God in His image — man. The 
glory of your humanity is restored by the angel of sobriety and 
temperance ; the glory of Christ rescued from the dishonor 
which is put upon Him by the drunkard, amongst all other sin- 
ners ; the glory of the Christian woman retrieved and honored, 
as every year adds a new, mellowing grace to the declining 
beauty which passes away with youth ; the glory of the 
family, in which the true Christian son is the reflection of the 
virtues of his true and Christian father. Finally, the glory of 
your own souls, and the assurance of a holy life and a happy 
death. All this is involved in the profession which you make 
to be the Apostles and the silent but eloquent propagators of 
this holy virtue — Temperance. Therefore do I congratulate 
you on the part of God who created you. I congratulate you 
for the regard that you have for the image of that God, on the 
part of that God who redeemed you. I, His most unworthy 
but anointed minister, have to congratulate you on the respect 
which you have for the humanity which the Lord Himself took 
to Him. On the part of your family and your friends, and of 
the society of which you form so prominent a feature, I con- 
gratulate you for the happiness and domestic comfort which 
this virtue will insure to you and to yours. On the part of 
dear, and faithful, and loved old Ireland, as an Irish priest, I 
congratulate you for your manly effort to raise up our people 
and our race from a vice which has lain at the root of all our 
national misfortunes and misery. On the part of your bishop 
— holy, loving, laborious, and earnest — whose joy and whose 
crown you are — I congratulate you for the comfort and the joy 
that you will bring to him, to enable him to bear up the burden 
of the spiritual solicitude of your souls and of the Church. As 
a priest, for every highest and holiest cause — for every purest 
source from which human joy can come — I congratulate you, 
my dear friends, and I ask you to persevere in this glorious 
effort in the cause of temperance — the first, the greatest of 
moral virtues — the grandest virtue which enshrines and pre- 
serves in it the integrity of our humanity, and prepares that 
humanity to receive the high, the Divine gifts of grace here, 
and of glory -hereafter in the everlasting kingdom of God. 



172 



TciJiperance. 



Finally, so deep is the interest I take in this subject, that I 
shall be only most happy, on every occasion, when my services 
can be of any benefit or comfort to you, to render those ser- 
vices to you in the sacred cause of temperance. 

The effect of Father Burke's splendid address upon the vast congregation 
is indescribable. 

As he proceeded, the audience, by one impulse, stood up in their seats, 
and crowded up through the aisles, as if each one were anxious to get near 
the speaker, as if to fix his very features on their memories. Bishop Bay- 
ley listened with the closest attention to every w^ord the good priest uttered, 
and seemed highly pleased and edified ; and at the conclusion of the address 
warmly congratulated Father Burke, as did also the reverend pastors pre- 
sent. On the occasion of his lecture in the evening, the bishop expressed 
the opinion, that if Father Burke's w-ords upon this subject could be laid 
before the eyes of every man, and woman, and child in the community, 
they would be almost sufficient to banish the demon of intemperance from 
every Catholic household in the land. This is, indeed, a remarkable and 
generous compliment to the great preacher's effort. 

The regular business of the Convention was now entered upon, the bishop 
opening the proceedings with prayer. 

iMr. O'Brien, the President, on calling the Convention to order, stated 
that the following resolution had been offered for adoption : 

Resolved, That the delegates and citizens here present earnestly beg of 
Father Burke to bear with him when he goes from our midst, and to take 
with him, back to the old land, the warmest thanks of our hearts for the 
serv^ice and the honor he has done the Catholics of the State of New Jersey 
by his magnificent discourse before the "Total Abstinence Union" this 
day; and that we, in the name of our fellow-Catholics of adjoining coun- 
ties, urgently request of him to meet our people in aggregate mass Con- 
vention, at some central and convenient point, to enable them to profit by 
the wisdom and genius with which he has treated the temperance question. 

The President supplemented the resolution with grateful reference to the 
generous action of their distinguished visitor, and of their own bishop and 
clergy ; and then called for the sense of the assembly upon the subject of 
the resolution, when there arose all over the church one solid and resound- 
ing aye," loud enough, as it were, to carry the thanks which it embodied 
to Father Burke's native hills, in the mother-land beyond the sea. 



THE ATTRIBUTES OF CATHOLIC 
CHARITY. 



[Delivered in the Church of Our Lady of Grace, Hoboken, N. J., on Thursday, 
April 25 th, 1872, in aid of St. Mary's Hospital, in charge of the Sisters of the Poor.] 

Y dear Friends : We all read the Scriptures ; but of the 
many who read them, how few there are who take the 
trouble of thinking profoundly on what they read ! 
Any one single passage of the Scriptures represents, 
in a few words, a portion of the infinite wisdom of the Almighty 
God. Consequently, any one sentence of those inspired writings 
should furnish the Christian mind with sufficient matter for 
thought for many and many a long day. Now, we. Catholic 
priests, are obliged, every day of our lives, in our daily office, to 
recite a large portion of the divine and inspired Word of God, 
in the form of prayer. Never was there a greater mistake than 
that made by those who think that Catholics do not read the 
Scriptures. All the prayers that we, priests, have to say — seven 
times a day approaching the Almighty God — are all embodied 
in the words of the Holy Scriptures ; and not only are we 
obliged to recite them as prayers, but we are also obliged to 
make them the subject of our daily and our constant thought. 
I purpose, therefore, in approaching this great subject of the 
Attributes of Christian Charity, to put before you a text of 
Scripture which many of you have, no doubt, read over and 
over again — viz. : the first verse of the Fortieth Psalm, in which 
the Psalmist says : " Blessed is the man that understandeth 
concerning the needy and the poor." 

Now, if you reflect, my dear friends, you will find that, at 
first sight, it seems strange to speak of that man as '* blessed" 




174 T^^^ Attributes of Catholic Charity. 

that understandeth concerning the needy and the poor; there 
seems to be so little mystery about them ; they meet us at every 
corner ; put their wants and their necessities before us ; they 
force the sight of their misery upon our eyes ; and the most 
fastidious and the most unwilling are obliged to look upon their 
sorrows, and to hear the voice of their complaint and their suf- 
ferings. What mystery is there, then, in the needy and the 
poor? What mystery can there be? And yet, in the needy, 
and the poor, and the stricken, there is so profound a mystery 
that the Almighty God declared that few men understand it ; 
and blessed is he that is able to fathom its depths." What is 
this mystery ? What is this subject — the one which I have come 
to explain to you ? A deep and mysterious subject ; one that 
presents to us far more of the wisdom of the designs of God 
than might appear at first. What is the mystery which is hid- 
den in the needy and the poor, and in which we are pronounced 
" blessed" if we can only understand it thoroughly, and, like 
true men, act upon that understanding ? Let me congratulate 
you, first, that, whether you understand this mystery or not, 
your presence here to-night attests that you wish to act upon 
it ; that yours are the instincts of Christian charity ; that the 
needy and the poor and the stricken ones of God have only to 
put forth their claims to you, at the pure hands of these spouses 
of our Lord, and you are ready, in the compassion and the ten- 
derness of heart which is the inheritance of the children of 
Christ, to fill their hands, that your blessings may find their way 
to the needy and the poor. 

And yet, although so prompt in answering the call of charity, 
perhaps it will interest you, or instruct you, that I should invite 
your consideration to this mystery. What is it ? In order to 
comprehend it, let us reflect. The. Apostle, St. Paul, writing to 
his recently-converted Christians, lays down this great rule for 
them : That, for the Christian man, there are three virtues which 
form the very life and essence of his Christianity ; and these are 
— not the virtues of prudence, nor of justice, nor of highminded- 
ness, nor of nobleness, nor of fortitude — no ; but they are the 
supernatural virtues of Faith, Hope, and Love. Now, there 
remain to you, brethren," he says, Faith, Hope, and Charity — 
these three ; but the greatest of these is Charity." The life of 
the Christian, therefore, must be the life of a believer — a man 



The Attributes of Catholic Charity. 



of Faith." It must be a hopeful Hfe — an anticipative life — a 
life that looks beyond the mere horizon of the present time into 
the far-stretching eternity that goes beyond it — a life of hope ; 
but, most of all, it must be a life of divine love. Those are the 
three elements of the Christian character. Nowadays, it is the 
fashion to pervert these three virtues. The man of faith is no 
longer the simple believer. Faith means a bowing down of the 
intellect to things that we cannot understand, because they are 
mysteries of God. But the idea of religion, nowadays, is to 
reason and not believe. The Apostle, if he were writing to the 
men of this nineteenth century, would be obliged to say : 
" Brethren, now there remain to you argument and reason 
but not faith ; for faith means, in the mind of the same Apostle, 
the humbling, unto full humiliation, of intelligence, before the 
mystery which was hidden for ages with Christ in God. " Faith," 
says St. Paul, ''is the argument of things that appear not." 
The Catholic Church, nowadays, is called the enslaver of the 
intelligence — the incubus upon the mind of man. And why ? 
Because she asks him to believe. Mind — men of intelligence 
who listen to me — because she asks a man to believe ; because 
she says to him, " My son, I cannot explain this to you ; it is a 
mystery of God ;" and there is no faith where there is no mys- 
tery. Where there is the clear vision, the comprehensive con- 
viction of the intelligence, arising from argumentation and rea- 
son, there is no sacrifice of the intellect — there is no faith. 

Hope, nowadays, has changed its aspect altogether. Men put 
tlieir hopes in anything rather than in Christ. It is only a few 
days ago I was speaking to a very intellectual man. He was a 
Unitarian — a man of deep learning and profound research. 
Speaking with him of the future, he said to me: " Oh, Father, 
my future is the ennoblement of the human race ; the grandeur 
of the ' coming man' ; the perfect development, by every scien- 
tific attainment, by every grand quality that can ennoble him, 
of the man who is to be formed out of the civilization and the 
progress and the scientific attainments of this nineteenth cen- 
tury." That was his language ; and I answered him and said : 

My dear sir, my hope is to see Christ, the Son of God, shining 
forth in all my fellow-men here, that He may shine in them for- 
ever hereafter. I have no other hope." 

The charity of to-day has changed its aspect. It has'become 



ij6 The Attributes of Catholic Charity. 



a mere human virtue. It is compassionate, I grant you ; but 
not with the compassion that our Lord demands from His 
people. It is benevolent, I am willing to grant you. We live 
in an age of benevolence. I bow down before that human 
virtue ; and I am glad to behold it. I was proud of my fellow- 
men, seeing the readiness and generosity with which, for instance, 
they came to the relief of the great burned city on the shores 
of the northern lake. I am proud Avhen I come here to hear 
New York and Jersey City and Hoboken called "cities of chari- 
ties." It is the grandest title that they could have. But when 
I come to analyze that charity — when I come to look at that 
charity through the microscope that the Son of God has put in 
my hands, viz. : — the light of divine faith — I find all the divine 
traits disappear, and it remains only a human virtue ; relieving 
the poor, yet not recognizing the virtue that reposes in them ; 
alleviating their sufferings, touching them with the hand of kind- 
ness, or of benevolence, but not with the reverential, loving 
hand of faith and of sacrifice. 

On the other hand, loudly protesting against this spirit of 
cmr age, which admits the bad, and spoils the good ; which lets 
in sin, and then tries to deprive of its sacramental character 
the modicum of virtue that remains — protesting against all 
this, stands the great Catholic Church, and says : Children 
of men, children of God, Faith, Hope, Charity, must be the 
life of you ; but your Faith and your Hope must be the 
foundation of your Charity ; for the greatest of these virtues is 
Charity." 

And w^hy ? What is Faith ? Faith is an act of human in- 
telligence ; looking up for the light that cometh from on high — 
from the bosom of God, from the eternal wisdom of God. 
Recognizing God in that light. Faith catches a gleam of Him, 
and rejoices in its knowledge. Hope is an act of the will, striv- 
ing after God, clinging to His promises, and trying, by realizing 
the conditions, to realize the glory which is the burden of that 
promise. Charity, alone, succeeds in laying hold of God. The 
God whom faith catches a glimpse of — the God whom hope 
strains after — charity seizes and makes its own. And, there- 
fore, the greatest of these is charity." When the veil shall 
fall from the face of God, and when we shall behold Him in 
heaven, even as He is and as He sees us, there shall be no more 



TJie Attributes of Catholic Charity. 



177 



faith ; it shall be absorbed in vision. When that which \vc strain 
after, and hope for, to-day, shall be given us, there shall be no 
more hope. It shall be lost in fruition. But the charity that 
seizes upon God to-day, shall hold for all eternity. Charity, 
alone, shall remain, the very life of the elect of God. And, 
therefore, the greatest of these is charity." 

Are there amongst you, this evening, any who are not Catho- 
lics ? If there be, you may imagine that because I come before 
you in the garb of a Dominican friar of the thirteenth century 
— with seven hundred years not only of the traditions of holi- 
ness, but even of historic responsibility on my shoulders, in 
virtue of the habit that I wear — you may imagine that I come 
amongst you, perhaps, with an estranged heart and embittered 
spirit against those without the pale of my holy, great, loving 
mother, the Church of God — for which, some day, God grant it 
may be my privilege to die. But no ! If there be one here to- 
night who is not a Catholic, I tell him that I love in him every 
virtue that he possesses. I tell him " I hope for you, that you 
will draw near to the light, recognize it, and enter into the 
glorious halls illuminated by the Lamb of God — the Jerusa- 
lem of God upon earth, which needs not the sun nor the 
moon, ' for the Lamb is the lamp thereof.' " And most assured- 
ly I love him. But I ask you, my friends, have you faith? Have 
you simple belief — the bowing down of the intelligence to the 
admission of a mystery into your minds — acknowledging its 
truth — whilst you cannot explain it to your reason? Have you 
faith, my beloved? — the faith that humbles a man — the faith 
that makes a man intellectually as a little child, sitting down at 
the awful feet of the Saviour, speaking to that child, through 
His Church ? If you have not this faith, but if you go groping 
for an argument here or an argument there, trying to build 
upon a human foundation the supernatural structure of divine 
belief — then, I ask you, how can you have hope ? seeing that 
Almighty God stands before you and says : Without Faith it 
is impossible to please me ; without Faith it is impossible to 
approach me ; without Faith you must be destroyed ; for I have 
said it — and my word cannot fail — he that believeth not shall be 
condemned." And if you have not Faith and Hope — the found- 
ation — how can you have the superstructure of divine Charity? 
How can w^e believe God unless we know him ? How can we 

12 



i;8 



The Attributes of CatJiolic Charity, 



love Him unless in proportion as we know Him ? Oh, God/' 
exclaimed the great St. Augustine, '4et me know Thee, and 
know Thee well, that I may love Thee and love Thee well I" 

Now, these being the three virtues that belong to the Chris- 
tian character, let us see how far the myster}' which is in the 
needy and the poor enters into these considerations of Faith, 
Hope, and Love. Certain it is that the charity which the 
Almighty God commands us to have — that is to say, the love 
which He commands us to have for Himself — is united to the 
other commandment of the love that the Christian man must 
have for his neighbor. Certain also it is, that the poorer, the 
more prostrate, the more helpless that neighbor is, the stronger 
becomes his claim upon our love. Thirdly : it is equalh^ cer- 
tain from the Scriptures that the charity must not be a mere 
sentiment of benevolence, a mere feeling of compassion, but it 
must be the strong, the powerful hand extended to benefit, to 
console, and to uplift the stricken, the powerless, and the poor. 

For," says St. John, "let us not love in word, or in tongue, 
but in deed and in truth." And he adds: He that hath the 
substance of the world, and shall see his brother in need, and 
shall shut up his bowels from him ; how doth the charity of 
God abide in him ?" Therefore, your charity must be a practi- 
cal and an earnest charity. Such being the precept of God 
with respect to the needy and the poor, let us see hov.- far faith 
and hope become the substratum of that charity which must 
move us towards them. What does faith tell us about these 
poor ? If Ave follow the example of the world, building up 
great prisons, paying physicians, paying those whom it deems 
worth while to pay for attending the poor, the sick, and the 
sorrowful — if we consult the world, building up its work-houses, 
immuring the poor there as if poverty was a crime — separating 
the husband from the wife, and the mother from her children — 
we see no trace here of Divine faith. And wh}-? Because 
Divine faith must always respect its object. Faith is the virtue 
by which we catch a gleam of God. Do we catch a gleam of 
Him in His poor? If so, they claim our veneration, tender- 
ness, and love. Now, I assert, that the poor of God, the 
afflicted, the heart-broken, the sick, the sorrowful — represent 
our Ford Jesus Christ upon this earth. Christ, our Lord, de- 
clared that He would remain upon the earth and would never 



TJlc Attributes of CatJiolic Charity. 179 



leave it. " Behold," He said, " I am with you all days unto 
the consummation of the world." Now, in three ways Christ 
fulfilled that promise. First of all. He fulfilled it in remaining 
with His Church — the abiding spirit of truth and holiness — to 
enable that Church to be, until the end of time, the infallible 
messenger of Divine truth ; that is to say, the light of the world 
— the unceasing and laborious sanctifier of mankind. You 
are the light of the world," says Christ; ''you are the salt of 
the earth. You are not only to illumine, but you are to pre- 
serve and to purify. In order that you may do this, I will re- 
main with you all days." Therefore is He present in the Church. 
Secondly, He is present in the adorable sacrament of the altar, 
and in the tabernacles of the Church — really and truly — as really 
and truly as He is upon the right hand of His Father. There- 
fore He said, " I wdll remain." And He indicated how He was 
to remain when, taking bread and wine, he transubstantiated 
them into His body and blood, saying, over the bread, " This is 
my Body," and over the wine, " This is my Blood." But in 
both- these ways Christ, our Lord, remains invisibly upon the 
earth. No man sees Him. We know that He is present in 
the Church ; and, therefore, when the Church of God speaks, 
we bow down and say, *' I believe," because I believe and 
I know that the voice that speaks to me re-echoes the voice 
of my God, the God of Truth. When Christ, our Lord, is 
put upon that altar, lifted up in the hands of the priest — 
lifted up in holy benediction, we bow down and adore the 
present God, saying: ''I see Thee not, O Lord, but I know 
that behind that sacramental veil Thou art present, for Thou 
hast said ; Lo, I am here ! This is my Body ! This is my 
Blood !" 

But, in a third way, Christ our Lord remains upon earth — 
visibly, and no longer invisible. And in that third way he re- 
mains in the persons of the poor, the sick, and the afflicted. He 
identifies Himself with them. Not only during the thirty-three 
years of His mortal life, when He was poor with the pogr, when 
He was sorrowful and afflicted with the sorrowful, when He 
bore the burden of their poverty and the burden of our sins on 
His own shoulders — not only was His place found amongst the 
poor — He who said the birds of the air have their nests, the 
beasts of the field and the foxes have their holes — but the Son 



i8o 



TJie Attributes of Catholic Chai'ity. 



of Man hath no place whereon to lay His head ! " not only 
was He poor from the day that He was born in a stable, until 
the day when, dying naked upon the Cross for pure charity, He 
got a place in another man's grave — but He also vouchsafed to 
identify Himself with His poor until the end of time, as if He 
said: ''Do you wish to find Me? Do you wish to touch Me 
with your hands? Do you wish to speak to Me words of con- 
solation and of love ? Oh, Christian man, go seek the poor and 
the naked, the sick, the hungry, and the famishing! Seek the 
afflicted and the heart-broken, and in them will you find Me ; 
for. Amen, I say unto you, whatsoever you do unto them, that 
you do unto Me ! " Thus does Christ, our Lord, identify Him- 
self with the poor and the Church. He remains in the world, 
in His- Church, commanding that we shall obey her — for He is 
God. In His sacramental presence we may adore Him : He is 
God. In His poor — in the afflicted, naked, hungry, famishing, 
that we may bend down and lift Him up — He is God still ! A 
most beautiful example of how the saints were able to realize 
this do we find recorded in the life of one of the beautiful saints 
of our Dominican Order—a man who wore this habit. He was 
a Spanish friar. His name was Alvarez of Cordova. He was 
noted amongst his brothers for the wonderful earnestness and 
cheerfulness with which he ahvays sought the poor and the 
afflicted, to succor and console them. Well, it happened upon 
a day that this man of God, absorbed in God and in prayer, 
went forth from his convent to preach to the people, and, as he 
journeyed along the high-road, he saw, stretched helplessly by 
the roadside, a man covered with a hideous leprosy — ulcerated 
from head to foot — hideous to behold ; and this man turned to 
him his languid eyes, and, with faint voice, appealed to him for 
mercy and succor. The sun, in all its noonday fervor, was beat- 
ing down fiercely upon that stricken man's head. He was 
unable to move. Every man that saw him fled from him. 
The moment the saint saw him he went over to him and 
knelt down by his side, and he kissed the sores of the leprous 
man. Then taking off the outer portion of our habit — this black 
cloak — he laid it upon the ground, and he tenderly took the 
poor man and folded him in the cloak, lifted him in his arms, 
and returned to his convent. He entered the convent. He 
brought the leper to his own cell, and laid him on his own litt.e 



The Attributes of Catholic Charity. 



i8i 



conventual bed. And, having laid him there, he went off to 
find some refreshment for him, and such means as he could for 
consoling him. He returned with some food and drink in his 
hands, laid them aside, went over to the bed, and there he found 
the sick man. He unfolded the cloak that was wrapped around 
him. Oh ! what is this that he beholds? The man's head wears 
a crown of thorns ; on his hands and his feet are the mark of 
nails, and forth from the wounded side streams the fresh blood I 
He is dead ; but the marks of the Lord are upon him ; and then 
the saint knew that the man whom he had lifted up from the 
roadside was Christ, his God and his Saviour ! And so, w^ith 
the eyes of faith, do we recognize Christ in His poor. What 
follows from this ? It follow^s, my friends, that the man who 
thus sees his God in the poor, who looks upon them with the 
eyes of faith, who recognizes in them something sacramental, 
the touch of which will sanctify him who approaches them — 
that that man will approach them with tenderness and with 
reverence — that he will consult their feelings — that he will seek 
to console the heart while he revives the body, and while he 
puts meat and drink before the sick man or the poor man, he 
will not put away from his heart the source of his comfort. He 
will not separate him from the wife of his bosom or the children 
of his love. He will not relieve him with a voice unmindful of 
compassion ; bending down, as it were, to relieve the poor. No, 
but he will relieve him in the truth of his soul, as recognizing in 
that man one who is identified, in the divinity of love and of 
tenderness, w^th his Lord and Master. This explains to you 
the fact, that when the high-minded, the highly-educated, the 
noblest and best of the children of the Catholic Church — the 
young lady with all the prospects of the world glittering before 
her — with fortune and its enjoyments around her — with the 
beauty of nature and of grace beaming from her pure counte- 
nance — when the young lady, enamored of heaven, and of the 
things of heaven, and disgusted with the world, comes to the 
foot of the sanctuary, and there kneeling, seeks a place in the 
Church's holy places, and an humble share in her ministrations, 
the Church takes her — one of these — her holiest, her best, her 
purest ; and she considers that she has conferred the highest 
honor upon the best of her children, when she clothes her with 
the sacred habit of religion, and tells her to go and take her 



l82 



The Attributes of Catholic Charity. 



place in the hospital, or in the poor-house, or in the infirmary, 
or in the orphanage, and sit down and minister to the poor ; not 
as relieving them, but as humbly serving them ; not as compas- 
sionating them, but as approaching them with an almost infinite 
reverence, as if she were approaching Christ Himself. Thus do 
we see how the Catholic virtue of charity springs from heaven. 
All tenderness of heart, all benevolence, all compassion, may be 
there ; as no doubt it is, in these hearts, in these consecrated 
ones, who, in order that they might love Christ and His poor 
all the more tenderly, all the more strongly, vowed to the Sav- 
iour, at His altar, that no love should enter into their bosoms, 
no emotions of affection should ever thrill their hearts, except 
love for Him ; for Him, wherever they found Him : and they 
have found Him in His poor and in His sick. All the tenderest 
emotions of human benevolence, of human compassion, of human 
gentleness, m.ay be there ; all that makes the good Protestant 
lady — the good infidel lady, if you will — so compassionate to the 
poor ; yet, whilst the worldling, and those without the Church 
bend down to an act of condescension in their charity, these 
spouses of the Son of God look up to the poor, and in their 
obedience seek to serve them ; for their compassion, their benev- 
olence, their divinely tender hearts are influenced by the divine 
faith which recognizes the Son of God in the persons of the 
poor and the needy, the stricken and the afflicted. 

This is the Catholic idea of charity in its associations. What 
follows from this? It follows, that when I, or the like of me, 
who, equally with these holy women, have given our lives, and 
our souls, and our bodies to the service of the Son of God, and 
of His Church, when we come before our Catholic brethren to 
speak to them on this great question of Catholic charity, we do 
not come as preaching, praying, beseeching, begging. Oh, no ! 
But we come with a strong voice of authority, as commanding 
you, " If you would see the Father's brightness, remember the 
poor, and, at your peril, surround them with all the ministra- 
tions of charity and of mercy." 

And how does hope enter into these considerations ? Ah, my 
friends, what do you hope for at all? What are your hopes, I 
ask the Christian man, the benevolent brother ? I don't care 
what religion you are of : Brother, tell me your hope ; because, 
hope from its very nature goes out into the future ; hope is a 



The Attributes of CatJwlic Charity. 



183 



realizing, by anticipation, of that which will one day come and 
be in our possession. What are your hopes? Every man has 
his hopes. No man lives without them. Every man hopes to 
attain to some position in this world, or to gain a certain happi- 
ness. One man hopes to make money and become a rich man. 
Another man aspires to certain dignities, hopes for them, and 
labors assiduously until he attains them. Another man centres 
his hopes in certain passions, and immerses himself in the an- 
ticipations of sensual delights. But I don't care what your 
hopes are ; this I ask you : Are your hopes circumscribed by 
this world, or do they go beyond the tomb ? Is all hope to 
cease when the sad hour comes that will find each and every 
one of you stretched helpless on his bed of death, and the aw- 
ful angel, bearing the summons of God, cries out, Come forth, 
O soul, and come with me to the judgment-seat of Christ!" Is 
all hope to perish then ? No ! no ! but the Christian's hope then 
only begins to be realized. No ; this life is as nothing compared 
with that endless eternity that awaits us beyond the grave ; 
and there all our hopes are ; and the hope of the Christian 
man is that when that hour comes that shall find his soul 
trembling before its impending doom, awaiting the sentence — 
that sentence will not be, Depart from me, accursed," but 
that it will be, Come, my friend, my blessed one, come and 
enjoy the happiness and the joy which was prepared for thee !" 
— this is our hope. Accursed is the man who has it not. Miser- 
able is the wretch that has it not ! What would this life be — 
even if it were a life of ten thousand years, replete with every 
pleasure — every enjoyment — unmixed by the slightest evil of 
sickness or of sorrow, if we knew that at the end of those ten 
thousand years, the eternity beyond, that should never know an 
end, was to be for us an eternity of sorrow and of despair ! 
We should be, of all men, the most miserable; ^' for," says the 
Apostle, " if in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of 
all men the most miserable." "But, Christ is risen from the 
dead; our hope;" and w^e look forward to the day when "we 
shall be taken up in the clouds to meet Christ in the air, and so 
shall we be always with the Lord ;" translated from glory unto 
glory, until we behold His face, unshrouded and unveiled, and 
be happy for ever in the contemplation of God. This is our 
hope ; yours and mine. But, remember, that although the Al- 



184 TJie Attributes of CatJiolic Charity. 

mighty God has promised this, and our hope is built upon the 
fidelity with which He keeps His word, still no man can expect 
the reward, nor can build up his hope on a solid foundation, 
unless he enters into the designs of God, and complies with 
the conditions that God has attached to His promises of 
glory. What are these conditions ? Think how largely the 
poor and the afflicted enter into them ! Come," the Re- 
deemer and Judge will say, Come unto me, ye blessed of 
my Father! This is not the first time that you have seen 
me. I was hungry, and you gave me to eat ! I was thirsty, 
and you gave me to drink ! I was naked, and you clothed me ! 
I was sick, and you visited me, and consoled me !" And then 
the just shall exclaim : Lord ! when did we ever behold Thee, 
oh, powerful and terrible Son of God ! when did we behold 
Thee naked, or hungry, or sick?" And He, answering, wall call 
the poor — the poor to whom we minister to-day ; the poor 
w^hom we console, and whose drooping heads we lift up to-day 
— He will call them, and say: "Do you know these?" And 
they will cry out : " Oh, yes ; these are the poor whom we saw 
hungry, and we fed them ; whom we saw naked, and we clothed 
them ; whom we saw sick, and we consoled and visited them. 
These are the poor that we were so familiar with, and that we 
employed Thy spouses, O Christ, to minister unto, and to 
console!" Then He will answer, and say: "I swear to you 
that, as I am God, as often as you have done it to the least of 
these, ye have done it unto Me !" But if, on the other hand, 
w^e come before him, glorying in the strength of our faith; 
magniloquent in our professions of Christianity ; splendid in 
our assumption of the highest principles ; correct in many of the 
leading traits of the Christian character — but with hands empty 
of the works of mercy ; if we are only obliged to say with 
truth, " Lord, I claim heaven ; but I never clothed the naked ; 
I never fed the hungry ; I never lifted up the drooping head of 
the sick and the afflicted." Christ, our Lord, will answer and 
say : Depart from me I I know you not ; I do not recognize 
you. I was hungry, and ye would not feed me in my hunger ; 
I was naked, and you would not clothe me in my nakedness ; 
I was thirsty and sick, and you would not relieve me, nor con- 
sole me in my sickness." And the reprobate will answer: 
" Lord, we never saw Thee hungry, or naked, or sick." And 



The Attributes of Catholic Charity, 



185 



then, once more, will He call the poor, and say : Behold these ; 
to these did you refuse your mercy, your pity, your charity ; and 
I swear to you that, as I am God, in the day that you refused 
to comfort, and to succor, and to console them, you refused to 
do it unto me. Therefore, there is no heaven for you." The 
golden key that opens the gate of heaven is the key of mercy ; 
therefore He will say : " As often as you are merciful to the 
poor, you are merciful to Me. I have said : Blessed are the 
merciful, for they shall find mercy." 

Who, therefore, amongst you, believing in these things, does 
not at once see that there is no true faith that does not recog- 
nize Christ in His poor, and so succor them with veneration ; 
who does not see that his hope is built upon the relations which 
are established between him and the poor of God ? Thus, out 
of this faith and out of this hope springs the charity with which 
we must relieve them. Now, mark how beautifully all this is 
organized in the Catholic Church. There is a curious expres- 
sion in the Scriptures — it is found in the Canticles of Solomon — 
where the spouse of the King — that is to say, the Church of 
God— amongst other things, says : My Lord and my King has 
organized charity in me." ^' Ordinavit in vie caritateviy Thus 
it is not the mere temporary flash of enthusiasm — it is not the 
mere passing feeling of benevolence, touched by the sight of 
their misery, that influences the Catholic Church ; but it is 
these promises and these principles of the Christian faith, recog- 
nizing who and what the poor are, and our Christian hope, 
building up all the conditions of its future glory upon this found- 
ation. Therefore it is, that in the Catholic Church, alone, is 
found the grand, organized charity of the world. Nowhere, 
without her pale, do you find charity organized. You may find 
a fair and beautiful ebullition of pity, here and there, as when a 
rich man dies and leaves, perhaps, half a million of dollars to 
found an hospital. But it is an exceptional thing, my dear 
friends ; as when some grand lady, magnificent of heart and 
mind — like, for instance, Florence Nightingale — devotes herself 
to the poor; goes into the hospitals and the infirmaries for the 
wounded. It is an exceptional case, I answer. If you travel 
out of the bounds of that fair and beautiful compassion that 
runs in so many hearts, and if you go one step farther into the 
cold atmosphere of political or State charity, there is not one 



i86 



The Attributes of CatJiolic Charity. 



vestige of chanty there ; it becomes political economy. The 
State beheves it is more economical to pick up the poor from 
the streets and lanes, to take them from their sick-beds, transfer- 
ring them into poor-houses and hospitals, and, whilst there, over- 
whelming them with the miserable pity that patronizes, making 
its gifts a curse and not a blessing, by breaking the heart whilst 
it relieves the body. Such is " State charity." I remember 
once, in the city of Dublin, I got a sick-call. It w^as to attend 
a poor woman. I went, and found, in a back lane in a city, a 
room on a garret. I climbed up to the place. There I found, 
without exaggeration, four bare walls, and a woman seventy-five 
years of age, covered with a few squalid rags, and lying on the 
bare floor ; not as much as a little straw had she under her head. 
I asked for a cup to give her a drink of water. There was no 
such thing to be had ; and there was no one there to give it. I 
had to go out and beg amongst the neighbors, until I got a 
cupful of cold water. I put it to her dying lips. I had to kneel 
down upon that bare floor to hear that dying woman's con- 
fession. The hand of death was upon her. What was her story? 
She was the mother of six children ; a lady, educated in a lady- 
like manner ; a lady, beginning her career of life in affluence and 
in comfort. The six children grew up. Some married ; some 
emigrated ; some died. But the weak and aged mother was 
alone, and apparently forgotten. And now, she was literally 
dying, not only of the fever that was upon her, but — of starva- 
tion ! As I knelt there on the floor, and as I lifted her aged, 
gray-haired head upon my hands, I said to her, Let me, for 
God's sake, have you taken to the workhouse hospital ; at least 
you will have a bed to lie upon !" vShe turned and looked at 
me. Two great tears came from her dying eyes, as she said : 

Oh, that I should have lived to hear a Catholic priest talk to 
me about a poor-house!" I felt that I had almost broken this 
aged heart. On my knees I begged her pardon. " No," she 
said, let me die in peace !" And there, whilst I knelt at her 
side, her afflicted and chastened spirit passed away to God ; 
but the taint of the charity of the State" was not upon her. 

Now, passing from this cold and wicked atmosphere of politi- 
cal economy, through the purer and more genial air of benevo- 
lence, charity, and tenderness — of which there is so much, even 
outside the Church — we enter into the halls of the Catholic 



The Attributes of CatJiolic Charity. 



187 



Church. There, amongst the varied beauties — amongst the 
consecrated forms of lovehness" with which Christ adorned 
His Church — we find the golden garment of an organized char- 
ity. We find the highest, the best, and the purest devoted to 
its service and to its cause. We find every form of misery which 
the hand of God, or the malice of man, or their own errors, can 
attach to the poor, provided for. The child of misfortune wan- 
ders through the streets of the city, wasting her young heart, 
polluting the very air that she breathes — a living sin ! The sight 
of her is sin — the thought of her is death — the touch of her hand 
is pollution unutterable ! No man can look upon her face and 
live ! In a moment of divine compassion, the benighted and 
the wicked heart is moved to turn to God. With the tears of 
the penitent upon her young and sinful face, she turns to the 
portals of the Church ; and there, at the very threshold of the 
sanctuary of God, she finds the very ideal of purity — the high- 
est, the grandest, the noblest of the Church's children. The 
woman who has never known the pollution of a wicked thought 
— the woman whose virgin bosom has never been crossed by the 
shadow of a thought of sin — the woman breathing purity, inno- 
• cence, grace — receives the woman whose breath is the pestilence 
of hell ! Extremes meet. Mary, the Virgin, takes the hand of 
Mary, the Magdalene ; and, in the organized charity of the 
Church of God, the penitent enters in to be saved and sancti- 
fied. 

The poor man, worn down and broken by poverty, exposed in 
his daily labor to the winds and the rains of heaven, with failing 
health and drooping heart, lies down to die. There, by his bed- 
side, stands the wife, and round her, her group of little children. 
They depend upon his daily labor for their daily bread. Now, 
that hand that labored for them so long and so lovingly, is pal- 
sied and stricken by his side. Now, his dying eyes are grieved 
with the sight of their misery. His ears are filled with the cry 
of the little ones for bread. The despair of their doom comes 
to embitter his dying moments. He looks from that bed of 
death out upon the gloomy world. He sees the wife of his 
bosom consigned to a pauper's cell, to await a pauper's grave ; 
and, for these innocent faces that surround him, he sees no 
future but a future of ignorance and of crime ; of punishment 
without hope of amendment ; and of the loss of their souls in 



i88 



TJie Attributes of CatJiolic Charity, 



the great mass of the world's crimes and misdeeds. But, whilst 
he is thus mournfully brooding, with sad and despairing thoughts, 
what figure is this that crosses the threshold and casts its shadow 
on the floor of the house? Who is this, entering noiselessly, 
modestly, silently, shrouded and veiled, as a being of heaven, 
not of earth? He lifts his eyes and he beholds the mild and 
placid face of the Sister of Mercy, beaming purity, mixed with 
divine love, upon him. Now the sunshine of God is let in upon 
the darkness of his despairing soul. Now he hears a voice 
almost as gentle, almost as tender, almost as powerful as the 
voice of Him who whispered in the ear of the Widow of Naim, 
" Oh, woman, weep no more And she tells him to fear not : 
that her woman's hand will insure protection for his children — 
and education, grace, virtue, heaven, and God. I once remem- 
ber I was called to attend a man, such as I have endeavored to 
describe to you. There were seven little children in the house. 
There was a woman, the mother of those children, the wife of 
him who was dying there. Two years before, this man had 
fallen from a scaffold, and was so shattered that he was para- 
lyzed ; and for two years he had lain upon that bed, starving as 
well as dying. When I was called to visit this man, I spoke to 
him of the mercy of God. He looked upon me with a sullen and 
despairing eye. This is the first time," he said, " that you 
have come to my bedside." Said I : My friend, this is the 
first time that I knew you were sick. Had I known it, I would 
have come to you before." No one," — this was his answer — 
no one cares for me. And you come now to speak to me of 
the mercy of God ! I have been on this bed for more than two 
years. I have seen that woman and her children starving for 
the last two years. And do you tell me that there is a God of 
mercy above me ! " I saw at once it was a case with which I 
could not deal. I left the house on the instant, and went straight 
to a convent of the Sisters of Mercy that was near. There I 
asked the Mother Superior, for God's sake, to send one or two 
of the nuns to the house. They went. Next day I visited 
him. Oh, what a change I found ! No longer the dull eye of 
despair. He looked up boldly and cheerfully from his bed of 
sorrow, no longer murmuring against the mercy of God, but 
with the deep thankfulness of a grateful heart. " Oh," said he, 
" I am so happy, Father, that I sent for you, — not so much for 



The Attributes of CatJiolic Charity. 



anything you can do for me ; but you sent me two angels of 
God from heaven! They came into my house; and, for the 
first time in two long years, I learned to hope ; to be sorry for 
my want of resignation ; and to return, with love, to that God 
whom I dared to doubt ! " Then he made his confession, and 
I prepared him for death. Patient he was, and resigned ; and, 
in his last moments, when his voice was faltering — when his 
voice became that of the departing spirit — his last words were : 
" You sent to me the angels of God, and they told me that 
when I should be in my grave they would be mothers to my 
children ! " Oh, fair and beautiful Church, that knows so well 
how to console the afflicted, to bind up the wounds of the 
breaking heart, to lift up the weary and the drooping head. 
Every form of human misery, every form of wretchedness — 
whether sent from God as a warning or a trial, or coming from 
men's own excesses and folly, and as a punishment for their 
sins — every form of human misery and affliction, as soon as it is 
seen, is softened and relieved by the gentlest, the tenderest, the 
sweetest agency — the touch of God through His consecrated 
ones. And it seems to the sufferer as if the word of the promise 
to come were fulfilled in time — the word which says : The 
Lord Himself will wipe away every tear from the eyes of His 
elect, and there shall be no more weeping, nor sorrow, nor any 
pain, for the former things have passed away." 

And thus, my friends, we see how beautifully charity is organ- 
ized in the Catholic Church. Not one penny of your charity is 
wasted. Every farthing that you contribute will be expended 
wisely, judiciously, and extended to its farthest length of useful- 
ness in the service of God's poor and stricken ones. And, lest the 
poor might be humbled whilst they are relieved, lest they might 
be hurt in their feelings whilst consoled with the temporal doles 
that are lavished upon them, the Church of God, with a wisdom 
more than human, appoints as her ministers of the poor, those 
who, for the love of Christ, have become poor like them. Be- 
hold these nuns ! They are the daughters of St. Francis. 
Seven hundred years ago now, almost, there arose in the city 
of Assisi, in Umbria, in Italy, a man so filled with the sweet 
love of Christ — so impregnated with the spirit of the Son of 
God, made man — that, in the rapture of his prayer, the " stig- 
mata'' — the marks of the nails upon the hands and feet, of the 



1 90 The Attributes of Catholic Charity. 

thorns upon the brow, of the wounds upon the side of the Re- 
deemer — were given to Francis of Assisi. Men beheld him and 
started from the sight, giving glory to God that they had caught 
a gleam of Jesus Christ upon the earth. He was the only saint 
of whom we read, that, without opening his lips, but simply 
coming and walking through the ways of the city, moved all 
eyes that beheld him to tears of tenderness and divine love : 
and he preached Christ and Him crucified," by merely showing 
Himself to men. These are the daughters of this saint, inherit- 
ing his spirit ; and he, in the Church, is the very ideal saint of 
divine and religious poverty. He would not have a shoe to his 
foot. He would not have a second coat. He would not have 
in his bag provision even for to-morrow ; but waited, like the 
prophet of old, that it should come to him from God, at the 
hands of his benefactors — the very ideal saint of poverty ; and, 
therefore, of all others, the most devoted in himself, and in 
his children, to God's poor. When there was a question of de- 
stroying the religious orders in Italy, and of passing a law that 
would not permit me, a Dominican, or these nuns, Franciscans, 
to dwell in the land — ^just as if we were doing any harm to any- 
body ; as if we were not doing our best to save and serve all 
the people — Caesare Cantu, the celebrated historian, stood up 
in the assembly and said : Men I before you make this law, 
abolishing all the religious men and women in the land, reflect 
for an ' instant. If any man amongst you, by some reverse of 
fortune, become poor ; if any man amongst you, in this en- 
lightened age, is obliged to beg his daily bread; wouldn't you 
feel ashamed ? wouldn't you feel degraded to have to go to 
your fellow-man to ask him for alms ? For me, if God should 
strike me with poverty, I would feel it a degradation. But I 
would not feel it a degradation to go to a Dominican or a Fran- 
ciscan, and ask him, a brother pauper, to break his bread with 
me." 

It is fitting that the voice which speaks to you this evening — 
although it comes from one wearing the habit of St. Dominic — 
should speak to you in the language of St. Francis of Assisi, 
who was the bosom friend of the great Dominic of Guzman. 
United in life and in love as the Fathers were, their children are 
united in that spiritual love which is the inheritance of God's 
consecrated ones on earth. i\nd, therefore, it is a privilege and 



The AttribtLtcs of Catholic Charity. 



191 



a glory to me to speak to you this evening on behalf of my 
Franciscan sisters. Yet, not in their behalf do I speak, but in 
behalf of the poor ; nor in behalf of the poor, but in behalf of 
Christ, who identifies Himself with the poor ; nor in behalf 
of Him, but in your own behalf ; seeing that all your hopes 
of the glory of heaven are bound up with the poor of 
whom I speak. It is your glory, and the glory of this special 
charity, that it was the first hospital founded in this State ; that 
at a time when men, concentrating their energies to amass 
wealth, immersed in their business, trying to heap up accumu- 
lations, and gather riches and large possessions, never thought 
of their poor ; or, if the poor obtruded themselves, brushed 
them out of their path, and told them to be gone ; then there 
came the Church of Christ into the midst of you. She sought 
not money, nor land, nor possessions. She brought these poor 
nuns, vowed to poverty, despising all the things of the world, 
and leaving them behind them ; she built up her hospital for 
the sick ; she brought her children of St. Francis of Assisi to 
minister to them, in mercy, in faith, and hope; and in the gen- 
tleness of Divine charity, to-night the Franciscan nuns say 
to you, Blessed is the man that understandeth concerning 
the needy and the poor !" 

I hope I may have thrown some light into the mind of even 
one amongst you, this evening, and let him see how blessed is 
the man who knows his position concerning the needy and the 
poor. I hope that those to whom my words give no light, may, 
at least, be given encouragement to persevere. Persevere, 
Catholics of Hoboken and Jersey City, in maintaining these 
Sisters, in filling their hands with your benefactions, in en- 
abling them" to pursue their calm but glorious career of charity 
and of mercy. I know that in thus encouraging you, I am 
advancing the best interests of your souls ; and that the mite 
that you give to-day, which might be given for pleasure, or 
sinfulness — shall return to you one day in the form of a crown 
— the crown of glory which will be set upon your heads, for 
ever and for ever, before the Throne of God, b}- the hands 
of the poor of Christ. Again I say to you, will you hear 
the voice from the Throne : Whatever you do to the poor, 
you do it unto Me I" Oh, may God send down His angel 
of mercy I may the spirit of His mercy breathe amongst us! 



192 



TJie Attributes of CatJiolic Charity, 



may the charity which guides your mercy — the charity, spring- 
ing from an enlightened and pure faith, and from a true and 
substantial hope — bring your reward ; that so, in the day when 
Faith shall perish with time — when Hope shall be lost, either 
in joy or sorrow — either in the fruition of heaven or in the 
despair of hell — that on that day you may be able to exclaim, 
when you first catch sight of the unveiled glory of the Saviour, 
Oh, Christ, of all the beauties of God, it is true, ' the greatest 
is Charity.' " 



THE HISTORY OF IRELAND, AS 
TOLD IN HER RUINS. 



[Delivered in the Cooper Institute, New York, on the evening of April 5th, 1372.] 

ADIES AND GENTLEMEN : Before I approach the 
subject of this evening's lecture, I have to apologize to 
you, in all earnestness, for appearing before you this 
evening in my habit. The reason why I put off my black 
cloth coat and put on this dress — the Dominican habit — is, first 
of all, because I never feel at home in a black coat. When God 
called me, the only son of an Irish father and an Irish mother, 
from the home of the old people, and told me that it was His 
will that I should belong to Him in the sanctuary, the father 
and mother gave me up without a sigh, because they were IrisJi 
parents, and had the Irish faith and love for the-Church in their 
hearts. And from the day I took this habit — from that day to 
this — I never felt at home in any other dress ; and if I were to 
come before you this evening in black cloth, like a layman, and 
not like an Irish Dominican friar, I might, perhaps, break down 
in my lecture. But there is another reason why I appear before 
you in this' white habit ; because I am come to speak to you of 
the ruins that cover the face of the old land ; I am come to 
speak to you, and to tell you of the glory and the shame, and 
the joy and the sorrow, that these ruins so eloquently tell of; 
and when I look upon them, in spirit now, my mind sweeps over 
the intervening ocean, and I stand in imagination under the 
ivied and moss-covered arches of Athenr}', orSligo, or Clare-Gal- 
way, or Kilconnell. The view that rises before me of the former 
inmates of these holy places, is a vision of white-robed Domini- 
cans and of brown Franciscans ; and, therefore, in coming to 

13 




194 



The History of Ireland, as 



speak to you in this garment, of the glorious history which they 
tell us, I feel more myself, more in consonance with the subject 
of which I have to speak, in appearing before you as the child 
and the representative — no matter how unworthy — of the Irish 
friars — the Irish priests and patriots who sleep in Irish graves 
to-night. 

And now, my friends, the most precious — the grandest — in- 
heritance of any people, is that people's history. All that forms 
the national character of a people, their tone of thought, their 
devotion, their love, their sympathies, their antipathies, their 
language — all this is found in their history, as the effect is found 
in its cause, as the autumn speaks of the spring. And the 
philosopher who wishes to analyze a people's character and to 
account for it — to account for the national desires, hopes, aspi- 
rations, for the strong sympathies or antipathies that sway a 
people — must go back to the deep recesses of their history ; and 
there, in ages long gone by, will he find the seeds that produced 
the fruit that he attempts to account for. And he will find that 
the nation of to-day is but the child and the offspring of the 
nation of by-gone ages ; for it is written truly, that " the child 
is father to the man." When, therefore, we come to consider 
the desires of nations, we find that every people is most strongly 
desirous to preserve its history, even as every man is anxious to 
preserve the record of his life ; for history is the record of a 
people's life. -Hence it is that, in the libraries of the more 
ancient nations we find the earliest histories of the primeval 
races of mankind, written upon the durable vellum, the imper- 
ishable asbestos, or sometimes deeply carved, in mystic and 
forgotten characters, on the granite stone or pictured rock, 
showing the desire of the people to preserve their history, which 
is to preserve the memory of them, just as the old man dying 
said, Lord, keep my memory green ! " 

But, besides these more direct and documentary evidences, 
the history of eveiy nation is enshrined in the national tradi- 
tions, in the national music and song; much more, it is written 
in the public buildings that cover the face of the land. These, 
silent and in ruins, tell most eloquently their tale. To-day " the 
stone may be crumbled, the wall decayed ; " the clustering ivy 
may, perhaps, uphold the tottering ruin to which it clung in 
the days of its strength ; but 



Told in Her Rums. 



^95 



" The sorrows, the joys of which once they were part, 
Still round them, like visions of yesterday, ihrong." 

They are the voices of the past ; they are the voices of ages 
long gone by. They rear their venerable and beautiful gray 
heads high over the land they adorn ; and they tell us the tale 
of the glory or of the shame, of the strength or of the weak- 
ness, of the prosperity or of the adversity of the nation to 
which they belong. This is the volume which we are about to 
open ; this is the voice which we are about to call forth from 
their gray and ivied ruins that cover the green bosom of Ireland ; 
we are about to go back up the highways of history, and, as it 
were, to breast and to stem the stream of time, to-day, taking 
our start from the present hour in Ireland. What have we here ? 
It is a stately church — rivalling — perhaps surpassing — in its 
glory the grandeur of by-gone times. We behold the solid 
buttresses, the massive wall, the high tower, the graceful spire 
piercing the clouds, and upholding, high towards heaven, the 
symbol of man's redemption, the glorious sign of the cross. 
We see in the stone windows the massive tracery, so solid, so 
strong, and so delicate. What does this tell us ? Here is this 
church, so grand, yet so fresh and new and clean from the 
mason's hand. What does it tell us ? It tells us of a race that 
has never decayed ; it tells us of a people that have never lost 
their faith nor their love ; it tells us of a nation as strong in its 
energy for every highest and holiest purpose, to-day, as it was 
in the ages that are past and gone forever. 

We advance just half a century up the highway of time ; 
and we come upon that which has been familiar, perhaps, to 
many amongst you, as well as to me — the plain, unpretending 
little chapel, in some by-lane of the town or city — or the plain 
and humble little chapel in some by-way in the country, with 
its thatched roof, its low ceiling, its earthen floor, its wooden 
altar. What does this tell us ? It tells us of a people strug- 
gling against adversity ; it tells us of a people making their 
first effort, after three hundred years of blood, to build up a 
house, however humble, for their God ; it tells us of a people 
who had not yet shaken off the traditions of their slavery, upon 
whose hands the chains still hano;, and the wounds inflicted bv 
those chains are still rankling ; it tells us of a people who 
scarcely yet know how to engage in the glorious work of 



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Church edification, because they scarcely yet reaHzed the 
privilege that they were to be allowed to live in the land that 
bore them. Let us reverently bow down our heads and salute 
these ancient places — these ancient, humble little chapels, in 
town or country, where we — we men of middle age — made our 
first confession and received our first communion ; let us salute 
these places, hallowed in our memories by the first, and there- 
fore the strongest, the purest, holiest recollections and associa- 
tions of our lives ; and, pilgrims of history, let us turn into the 
dreary, solitary road that lies before us. It is a road of three 
hundred years of desolation and bloodshed ; it is a road that 
leads through martyrs' and patriots' graves ; it is a road that is 
wet with the tears and with the blood of a persecuted and 
down-trodden people ; it is a road that is pointed out to us by 
the sign of the cross, the emblem of the nation's faith, and by 
the site of the martyr's grave, the emblem of the nation's un- 
dying fidelity to God. 

And now what venerable ruin is this which rises before our 
eyes, moss-crowned, embedded in clustering ivy? It is a 
church, for we see the mullions of the great east window . f the 
sanctuary, through which once flowed, through angels and saints 
depicted thereon, the mellow sunshine that warmed up the arch 
above, and made mosaics upon the church and altar. It is a 
church of the IMediaeval Choral Orders — for I see the lancet 
windows, the choir where the religious were accustomed to 
chant — yet popular, and much frequented by the people — for I 
see, outside the choir, an ample space ; the side-aisles are unin- 
cumbered, and the side-chapels with altars — the mind of the 
architect clearly intending an ample space for the people ; yet 
it is not too large a church ; for it is generally one that the 
preacher's voice can easily fill. Outside of it runs the square 
of the ruined cloister, humble enough, yet most beautiful in its 
architecture. But now, church and cloister alike are filled with 
the graves — the homes — of the silent dead. Do I recall to the 
loving memory of any one amongst you, scenes that have been 
familiar to your eyes in the dear and the green old land ? Are 
there not those amongst you, who have looked, with eyes 
softened by love, and by the sadness of the recollections re- 
called to the mind, under the chancel and the choir, under the 
ample space of nave and aisle of the old Abbey of Athenry, or 



Told in Her Ruins. 



197 



in the old Abbey of Kilconnell, or such as these ? Wliat talc do 
these tell ? They tell of a nation that, although engaged in a 
hand-to-hand and desperate struggle for its national life, yet in 
the midst of its wars, was never unmindful of its God ; they 
tell of Ireland when the clutch of the Saxon was upon her — 
when the sword was unsheathed that was never to know its 
scabbard from that day until this — and that never will, until the 
diadem of perfect freedom rests upon the virgin brow of Ire- 
land. They tell of the glorious days, when Ireland's Church 
and Ireland's Nationality joined hands ; and when the priest 
and the people rose up to enter upon a glorious combat 
for freedom. These were the homes of the Franciscan and 
the Dominican friars — the men who, during three hundred 
years of their residence in Ireland, recalled, in these clois- 
ters, the ancient glories of Lismore, and of Glendalough, 
and of Armagh ; the men who, from the time they first raised 
these cloisters, never left the land — never abandoned the old 
soil, but lingered around their ancient homes of happiness, of 
sanctity, and of peace, and tried to keep near the old walls, just 
as Magdalen lingered round the empty tomb, on Easter morn- 
ing, at Jerusalem. They tell of the sanctuaries, where the 
hunted head of the Irish patriot found refug.e and a place of 
security; they tell the Irish historian of the national councils, 
formed for state purposes within them. These venerable walls, 
if they could speak, would tell us how the wavering were en- 
couraged and strengthened, and the brave and gallant fired with 
the highest and noblest purpose, for God and Erin ; how the 
traitor was detected, and the false-hearted denounced ; and how 
the nation's life-blood was kept warm, and her wounds were 
stanched, by the wise counsels of the old Franciscan and Domini- 
can friars. All this, and more, would these walls tell, if they 
could speak ; for they have witnessed all this. They witnessed 
it until the day came — the day of war, the sword, and blood — 
that drove forth their saintly inmates from their loving shelter, 
and devoted themselves to desolation and decay. 

Let us bow down, fellow-Irishmen, with reverence and with 
love, as we pass under the shadow of these ancient walls. And 
now stepping a few years — scarcely fifty years — further on, on 
the road of our history, passing, as we go along, under the 
frowning, dark feudal castles of the Fitzgeralds, of the De 



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TJie History of Ireland, as 



Laceys, the De Courc)'s, the Fitzadehns, and, I regret to say, 
the De Burgs — the castles that tell us always of the terror of 
the invaders of the land, hiding themselves in their strongholds, 
because they could not trust to the love of the people, who 
hated them ; and because they were afraid to meet the people 
in the open field — passing under the frowning shadows of these 
castles, suddenly we stand amazed — crushed, as it were, to the 
earth — by the glories that rise before us, in the ruins of Alelli- 
font, in the ruins of Dunbrodie, in the awful ruins of Holy Cross 
and of Cashel, that we see yet uplifting, in solemn grandeur, 
their stately heads in ruined beauty over the land which the}' 
once adorned. There do we see the vestiges of the most mas:- 
nificent architecture, some of the grandest buildings that ever 
yet were raised upon this earth for God or for man. There do 
we see the lofty side-walls pierced Avith huge windows, filled 
with the most delicate tracery ; there, when we enter in Ave 
throw our eyes aloft with wonder, and see the groined, massive 
arches of the ceiling upholding the mighty toAver ; there do Ave 
see the grandeur of the ancient Cistercians, and the Canons 
Regular of St. Augustine, and the Benedictines. ^Mlat tale do 
tJiey tell us ? Oh, they tell us a glorious tale of our history and 
o-f our people. These Avere the edifices that Avere built and 
founded in Ireland during the brief respite that the nation had, 
from the day that she drove the last Dane out, until the day 
that the first accursed Norman came. A short time — a brief 
period; too brief, alas ! too brief! Ireland, exhausted after her 
three hundred years of Danish invasion, turned her first thoughts 
and her first energies to build up the ancient places that Avere 
ruined — to restore and to clothe the sanctuaries of her faith, 
with a splendor such as the nation had never seen before. 

We Avill pass on. And noAv, a mountain-road lies before us. 
The land is filled again, for three centuries, Avith desolation and 
with bloodshed and Avith sorroAv. The hillsides, on either hand 
of our path, are strcAvn Avith the bodies of the slain ; the vallcA's 
are filled Avith desolation and ruin ; the air resounds to the 
ferocious battle-cr}^ of the Dane, and to the brave battle-cr}' of 
the Celt, intermingled Avith the Availing of the Avidowed mother 
and the ra\dshed maid ; the air is filled Avith the crash and the 
shock of battle. In terrible onset, the lithe, active, mail-clad, 
fair-haired, blue-eyed Avarriors of the North meet the dark, stal- 



Told in Her Ruins. 



wart Celt, and they close in mortal combat. Toiling along, 
pilgrims of history as we are, we come to the summit of Tara's 
Hill, and there we look in vain for a vestige of Ireland's ruins. 
But now, after these three hundred years of our backward jour- 
ney over the highway of history, we breathe the upper air. The 
sunshine of the eighth century, and of Ireland's three centuries 
of Christianity, is upon our path. We breathe the purer air ; 
we are amongst the mountains of God ; and a sight the most 
glorious that nation ever presented opens itself before our eyes 
— the sight of Ireland's first three centuries of the glorious faith 
of St . Patrick, Peace is upon the land. Schools rise upon 
every hill and in every valley. Every city is an immense 
school. The air again is filled with the sound of many voices ; 
for students from every clime under the sun — the German, 
the Pict, the Cimbri, the Frank, the Italian, the Saxon, are all 
mingling together, conversing together in the universal language 
of the Church, Rome's old Latin. They have come, and they 
have covered the land ; they have come in thousands and in tens 
of thousands, to hear, from the lips of the world-renowned Irish 
saints, all the lore of ancient Greece and Rome, and to study in 
the lives of these saints the highest degree and noblest inter- 
pretation of Christian morality and Christian perfection. Wise 
rulers governed the land ; her heroes were moved to mighty 
acts ; and these men, who came from every clime to the univer- 
sity of the world — to the great masters of the nations — go back 
to their respective countries and tell the glorious tale of Ireland's 
strength and Ireland's sanctity — of the purity of the Irish 
maidens — of the learning and the saintliness of the Irish priest- 
hood ; of the wisdom of her kings and rulers ; of the sanctity of 
her people ; until at length, from out the recesses of history, 
there comes, floating upon the breezes of time, the voice of an 
admiring world, that proclaims my native land, in that happy 
epoch, and gives to her the name of the island of heroes, of 
saints, and of sages. 

Look up. In imagination we stand, now, upon the highest 
level of Ireland's first Christianity. Above us, we behold the 
venerable hill-top of Tara ; and beyond that, again, far awa}-, 
and high up on the mountain, inaccessible by any known road 
of history, lies, amidst the gloom — the mysterious cloud that 
hangs around the cradle of every ancient race, looming forth 



20O 



The History of Ireland, as 



from pre-historic obscurity — we behold the mighty Round 
Towers of Ireland. There they stand — 

" The Pillar Towers of Ireland ! how wondrously they stand 
By the rushing streams, in the silent glens, and the valleys of the land — 
In mystic file, throughout the isle, they rear their heads sublime — 
Those gray, old, pillar temples — those conquerors of time." 

Now, having gone up to the cradle and fountain-head of our 
history, as told by its monuments and its ruins, we shall pause 
a little before we begin again our downward course. We shall 
pause for a few moments under the shadows of Ireland's round 
towers. There they stand, most perfect in their architecture ; 
stone fitted into stone with the most artistic nicety and regular- 
ity ; every stone bound to its bed by a cement as hard as the 
stone itself ; a beautiful calculation of the weight which was to 
be put upon it, and the foundation which was to sustain it, has 
arrived at this — that, though thousands of years have passed 
over their hoary heads, there they stand, as firm to-day as on the 
day when they were first erected. There they stand, in perfect 
form, in perfect perpendicular ; and the student of art in the nine- 
teenth century can find matter for admiration and for wonder 
in the evidence of Ireland's civilization, speaking loudly and 
eloquently by the voice of her most ancient round towers. 
Who built them ? You have seen them ; they are all over the 
island. The traveller sails up the placid bosom of the lovely 
Blackwater, and whilst he admires its varied beauties, and his 
very heart within him is ravished by its loveliness, he beholds, 
high above its green banks, amidst the ruins of ancient Lismore, 
a venerable round tower lifting its gray head into the air. As 
he goes on, passing, as in a dream of delight, now by the val- 
leys and the hills of lovely Wicklow, he admires the weeping 
alders that hang over the stream in sweet Avoca ; he admires 
the bold heights, throwing their outlines so sharp and clear 
against the sky, and clothed to their very summits with the 
sweet-smelling purple heather; he admires all this, until, at 
length, in a deep valley, in the very heart of the hills, he be- 
holds, reflecting itself in the deep waters of still Glendalough, 
the venerable round tower of other days." Or he has taken 
his departure from the Island of Saints, and when his ship's 
prow is turned toward the setting sun, he beholds upon the 
headlands of the iron-bound coast of Mayo or western Galway, 



Told in Her Ruins. 



201 



the round tower of Ireland, the last thing the eye of the lover 
or traveller beholds. Who built these towers, or for what pur- 
pose were they built? There is no record of reply, although the 
question has been repeated, age after age, for thousands of years. 
Who can tell ? They go so far back into the mists of history 
as to have the lead of all the known events in the history of our 
native land. Some say that they are of Christian origin ; others, 
again, say, with equal probability, and perhaps greater, that 
these venerable monuments are far more ancient than Ireland's 
Catholicity ; that they were the temples of a by-gone religion, 
and, perhaps, of a long-forgotten race. They may have been 
the temples of the ancient Fire Worshippers of Ireland ; 
and the theory has been mooted, that in the time when 
our remotest forefathers worshipped the rising sun, the 
priest of the sun was accustomed to climb to the summit 
of the round tower, to turn his face to the east, and watch 
with anxiety the rising of the morning star, as it came up trem- 
bling in its silver beauty, above the eastern hills. Then, when 
the first rays of the sun illumined the valleys, he hailed its rising, 
and proclaimed to the people around him their duty of worship 
to the coming God. This is the theory that would connect Ire- 
land's round towers with the most ancient form of religion — the 
false religion which truth dispelled, w^hen, coming with the sun 
of heaven, and showing before Irish intellect the glories of the 
risen Saviour — the brightness of the heavenly sun dimmed for 
ever the glory of the earthly, and dispelled the darkness of the 
human soul, which had filled the land before with its gloom. This 
is not the time nor the place to enter into an archaeological ar- 
gument as to whether the round towers are of Pagan or Chris- 
tian origin, or as to whether they are the offspring of the famous 
Goban Saor, or of any other architect, or of the men of the fifth or 
of the sixth centuries ; or whether they go back into the times 
of which no vestige remains upon the pages of history, or in the 
traditions of men ; this, I say, is not the time to do it. I at- 
tempted this once, and whilst I was pursuing my argument, as 
I imagined, very learnedly and very profoundly, I saw a man, 
sitting opposite to me, open his mouth, and he gave a yawn ; 
and I said in my own mind, to myself, My dear friend, if you 
do not close your dissertation, that man will never shut his 
mouth ; " for I thought the top of his head would come off. 



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TJie History of Ireland, as 



But no matter what may be the truth of this theory or that, con- 
cerning the round towers, one thing is certain, and this is the 
point to which I wish to speak — that, as they stand to-day, in 
the strength of their material, in the beauty of their form, in the 
perfection of their architecture, in the scientific principles upon 
which they were built, and which they reveal, they are the most 
ancient amongst the records of the most ancient nations, and 
distinctly tell the glorious tale of the early civilization of the 
Irish people. For, my friends, remember that, amongst the evi- 
dences of progress, of civilization, amongst the nations, there is 
no more powerful argument or evidence than that which is given 
by their public buildings. When you reflect that many centu- 
ries afterwards — ages after ages — even after Ireland had become 
Catholic — there was no such thing in England as a stone build- 
ing of any kind, much less a stone church — when you reflect 
that outside the pale of the ancient civilization of Greece and 
Rome, there was no such thing known amongst the northern 
and western nations of Europe as a stone edifice of any kind ; 
then I say, from this, I conclude that these venerable pillar 
temples of Ireland are the strongest argument for the ancient 
civilization of our race. But this also explains the fact that St. 
Patrick, when he preached in Ireland, was not persecuted ; that 
he was not contradicted ; that it was not asked of him, as of 
every other man that ever preached the Gospel for the first time 
to any people, to shed his blood in proof of his belief. No, he 
came not to a barbarous people — not to an uncivilized race ; but 
he came to a wonderfully civilized nation — a nation which, 
though under the cloud of a false religion, had yet attained to es- 
tablished laws and a recognized and settled form of government, 
a high philosophical knowledge, a splendid national melody and 
poetry ; and her bards, and the men who met St. Patrick, upon 
the Hill of Tara, when he mounted it on that Easter morning, 
were able to meet him with solid arguments ; were able to meet 
him with the clash which takes place when mind meets mind ; 
and when he had convinced them, they showed the greatest 
proof of their civilization by rising up, on the instant, to declare 
that Patrick's preaching was the truth, and that Patrick was a 
messenger of the true God. We know for certain that, what- 
ever was the origin of those round towers, the Church — the 
Catholic Church in Ireland — made use of them for religious pur- 



Told in Her Rtiins. 



203 



poses; that she built her cathedrals and her abbey churches 
alongside of them ; and we often find the loving group of the 
''Seven Churches," lying closely beside, if not under the shadow 
of, the round towers. We also know that the monks of old set 
the Cross of Christ on these ancient round towers — that is, on 
the upper part of them ; and we know, from the evidence of a 
later day, that when the land was deluged in blood, and when 
the faithful people were persecuted, hunted down — then it was 
usual, as in the olden time, to light a fire in the upper portion 
of those round towers, in order that the poor and persecuted 
might know where to find the sanctuary of God's altar. Thus 
it was that, no matter for what purpose they were founded, the 
Church of God made use of them for purposes of charity, of re- 
ligion, and of mercy. 

Coming down from these steep heights of history ; coming 
do\\'n — like Moses from the mountain — from out the mysteries 
that envelop the cradle of our race, but, like the prophet of 
old, with the evidence of our nation's ancient civilization and 
renown beaming upon us — we now come to the Hill of Tara. 
Alas, the place where Ireland's monarch sat enthroned, the 
place where Ireland's sages and seers met, where Ireland's 
poets and bards filled the air with the rich harmony of our 
ancient Celtic melody, is now desolate ; not a stone upon a 
stone to attest its ancient glory. Perieriuit ctiain ridncB ! " — 
the very ruins of it have perished. The mounds are there, the 
old moat is there, showing the circumvallation of the ancient 
towers of Tara ; the old moat is there, still traced by the un- 
broken mound whereby the " Banquet Hall," three hundred and 
sixty feet long, by forty feet in width, was formed, and in which 
the kings of Ireland entertained their chieftains, their royal 
dames, and their guests, in high festival and glorious revelry. 
Beyond this no vestige remains. But there, within the moat — 
in the very midst of the ruins — there, perhaps, on the very spot 
where Ireland's ancient throne was raised — there is a long, 
grass-grown mound ; the earth is raised ; it is covered with a 
verdant sod ; the shamrock blooms upon it, and the old peasants 
will tell you, this is the ''Croppy's Grave." In the year 1798, 
the "year of the troubles," as we may well call it, some ninety 
Wexford men, or thereabouts, after the news came that " the 
cause was lost," fought their way, ever}- inch, from Wexford 



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TJie History of Ireland, as 



until they came to the Hill of Tara, and made their last stand 
on the banks of the River Boyne. There, pursued by a great 
number of the king's dragoons, they fought their way through 
these two miles of intervening country, their faces to the foe. 
These ninety heroes, surrounded, fired upon, still fought and 
would not yield, until slowly, like the Spartan band at Ther- 
mopylae, they gained the Hill of Tara, and stood there like lions 
at bay. Surrounded on all sides by the soldiers, the officer in 
command offered them their lives if they would only lay down 
their arms. One of these Shelmaliers " had that morning sent 
the colonel of the dragoons to take a cold bath in the Boyne. 
In an evil hour the Wexford men, trusting to the plighted faith 
of this British officer, laid down their arms ; and, as soon as 
their guns were out of their hands, every man of them was fired 
upon ; and to the last one, they perished upon the Hill of Tara. 
And there they were enshrined among the ancient glories of 
Ireland, and laid in the " Croppy's Grave." And they tell 
how, in 1843, when O'Connell was holding his monster meet- 
ings throughout the land — in the early morning, he stood upon 
the Hill of Tara, with a hundred thousand brave, strong Irish- 
men around him. There was a tent pitched upon the hill-top ; 
there was an altar erected, and an aged priest went to offer up 
the Mass for the people. But the old women — the women with 
the gray heads, who were blooming maidens in '98 — came from 
every side; and they all knelt round the Croppy's Grave;" 
and just as the priest began the Mass, and the one hundred 
thousand on the hill-sides and in the vales below were uniting 
in adoration, a loud cry of wailing pierced the air. It was the 
Irish mothers and the Irish maidens pouring out their souls in 
sorrow, and wetting with their tears the shamrocks that grew 
out of the "Croppy's Grave: " 

" Dark falls the tear of him that mourneth 
Lost hope or joy that never returneth ; 
But brightly flows the tear 
Wegt o'er a hero's bier." 

Tara and its glories are things of the past ; Tara and its mon- 
archs are gone ; but the spirit that crowned them at Tara has 
not died with them ; the spirit that summoned bard and chief 
to surround their throne has not expired with them. That 
spirit was the spirit of Ireland's nationality; and that spirit 



Told in Her Ruins. 



205 



lives to-day as strong, as fervid, and as glorious as ever it 
burned during the ages of persecution ; as it ever lived in the 
hearts of the Irish race. 

And now, my friends, treading, as it were, adown the hill-side, 
after having heard Patrick's voice, after having beheld, on the 
threshold of Tara, Patrick's glorious episcopal figure, as, with 
the simplicity that designated his grand, heroic character, he 
plucked from the soil the shamrock and upheld it, and appealed 
to the imagination of Ireland — appealed to that imagination 
that never yet failed to recognize a thing of truth or a thing 
of beauty — we now descend the hill, and wander through the 
land where we first beheld the group of the ''Seven Churches." 
Everywhere throughout the land do we see the clustering ruins 
of these small churches. Seldom exceeding fifty feet in length, 
they rarely attain to any such proportion. There they are, gen- 
erally speaking, under the shadow of some old round tower — 
some ancient Celtic name, indicative of past glory, still linger- 
ing around and sanctifying them. What were these seven 
churches? what is the meaning of them? why were they so 
numerous ? Why, there were churches enough, if we believe 
the ruins of Ireland, in Ireland during the first two centuries of 
its Christianity, to house the whole nation. Everywhere there 
were churches — churches in groups of seven — as if one were not 
enough, or two. Nowadays, we are struck with the multitude 
of churches in London, in Dublin, in New York ; but w^e must 
remember that we are a divided community, and that eveiy 
sect, no matter how small it is, builds its own church ; but in 
Ireland we were all of one faith ; and all of these churches were 
multiplied. But what is the meaning of it ? These churches 
were built in the early days of Ireland's monasticism — in the 
days when the world acknowledged the miracle of Ireland's 
holiness. Never, since God created the earth — never, since 
Christ proclaimed the truth amongst men — never was seen so 
extraordinary and so miraculous a thing as that a people should 
become, almost entirely, a nation of monks and nuns, as soon as 
they became Catholic and Christian. The highest proof of the 
Gospel is monasticism. As I stand before you, robed in this 
Dominican dress — most unworthy to wear it — still, as I stand 
before you, a monk, vowed to God by povert}', chastit}*, and 
obedience — I claim for myself, such as I am, this glorious title, 



206 



TJie History of Ireland^ as 



that the Church of God regards us as the very best of her chil- 
dren. And why? Because the cream, as it were, of the Gospel 
spirit is sacrifice ; and the highest sacrifice is the sacrifice that 
gives a man entirely, without the slightest reserve, to God, in 
the service of his country and of his fellow-men. This sacrifice 
is embodied and, as it were, combined in the monk ; and, there- 
fore, the monk and the nun are really the highest productions 
of Christianity. Now, Ireland, in the very first days of her con- 
version, so quickly caught, up the spirit and so thoroughly en- 
tered into the genius of the Gospel, that she became a nation 
of monks and nuns, almost on the day w^hen she became a na- 
tion of Christians. The consequence was, that throughout the 
land — in the villages, in every little town, on every hill-side, in 
every valley, these holy monks were to be found ; and they 
were called by the people, who loved them and venerated them 
so dearly — they were called by the name of Culdees, or servants 
of God. 

Then came, almost at the very moment of Ireland's conversion 
and Ireland's abundant monasticism, embodied, as it were, and 
sustained by that rule of St. Columba which St. Patrick brought 
into Ireland — having got it from St. Martin of Tours — then 
came, at that very time, the ruin and the 4esolation of almost 
all the rest of the world. Rome was in flames ; and the ancient 
Pagan civilization of thousands of years was gone. Hordes of 
barbarians poured, in streams, over the world. The whole of 
that formerly civilized world seemed to be falling back again 
into the darkness and chaos of the barbarism of the earliest 
times ; but Ireland, sheltered by the encircling waves, converted 
and sanctified, kept her national freedom. No invader profaned 
her virgin soil ; no sword was drawn, nor cry of battle or feud 
resounded through the land : and the consequence was, that 
Ireland, developing her schools, entering into every field of 
learning, produced, in almost every monk, a man fitted to teach 
his fellow-men and enlighten the world. And the whole world 
came to their monasteries, from every clime, as I have said be- 
fore ; they filled the land ; and for three hundred years, without 
the shadow of a doubt, history declares that Ireland held the 
intellectual supremacy of the civilized w^orld. Then were built 
those groups of seven churches, here and there ; then did they 
fill the land ; then, when the morning sun arose, every valley in 



Told in Her Ruins. 



207 



blessed Ireland resounded to the praises and the matin-song of 
the monk ; then the glorious cloisters of Lismore, of Armagh, 
of Bangor, of Arran arose ; and, far out in the western ocean, 
the glorious chorus resounded in praise of God, and the musical 
genius of the people received its highest development in hymns 
and canticles of praise — the expression of their glorious faith. 
For three hundred years of peace and joy it lasted ; and, during 
those three hundred years, Ireland sent forth a Columba to 
lona ; a Virgilius to Italy; a Romauld to Brabant; a Gaul (or 
Gallus) to France — in a word, every nation in Europe — even 
Rome itself— all acknowledged that, in those days, the light 
of learning and of sanctity beamed upon them from the holy 
progeny of saints, that Ireland, the fairest mother of saints, 
produced and sent out to sanctify and enlighten the world. 
And, mark you, my friends, these Irish monks were fear- 
less men. They were the most learned men in the world. 
For instance, there was one of them — at home he was called 
Fearghal, abroad he was called Virgilius ; this man was a great 
astronomer ; and, as early as the seventh century, he discovered 
the rotundity of the earth, proclaimed that it was a sphere, 
and declared the existence of the antipodes. In those days 
everybody thought that the earth was as flat as a pancake ; and 
the idea was, that a man could walk as far as the land brought 
him, and he would then drop into the sea ; and that if he took 
ship then, and sailed on to a certain point, why, then he would 
go into nothing at all. So, when this Irish monk, skilled in 
Irish science, wrote a book, and asserted this, which was re- 
cognized in after ages and proclaimed as a mighty discovery, 
the philosophers and learned m^n of the time were astonished. 
They thought it was heresy, and they did the most natural 
thing in the world — they complained to the pope of him ; and 
the pope sent for him, examined him, examined his theory, and 
examined his astronomical system ; and this is the answer, and 
the best answer, I can give to those who say that the Catholic 
Church is not the friend of science or of progress. What do 
you think is the punishment the pope gave him ? The pope 
made him xA^rchbishop of Salzburg. He told him to continue 
his discoveries — continue your studies, he said ; mind }-our 
prayers, and try and discover all the scientific truth that you 
can ; for you are a learned man. Well, Fearghal continued his 



2o8 



TJic History of Ireland^ as 



studies, and so Avell did he study that he anticipated, by cen- 
turies, some of the most highly practical discoveries of modern 
ages ; and so well did he mind his prayers, that Pope Gregoiy 
the Tenth canonized him. after his death. 

The Danish invasion came, and I need not tell you that these 
Northern warriors who landed at the close of the eighth cen- 
tury, effecting their first landing near where the town of 
Skerries stands now, between Dublin and Balbriggan, on the 
eastern coast — that these men, thus coming, came as plunderers, 
and enemies of the religion as well as of the nationality of the 
people. And for three hundred years, wherever they came, 
and wherever they went, the first thing they did was to put to 
death all the monks, and all the nuns, set fire to the schools, 
and banish the students ; and, infiamed in this way with the 
blood of the peaceful, they sought to kill all the Irish friars ; 
and a war of extermination — a war of interminable struggle 
and duration, was carried on for three hundred years. Ireland 
fought them ; the Irish kings and chieftains fought them.. We 
read that in one battle alone, at Glenamada, in the county of 
Wicklow, King Malachi, he who wore the " collar of gold," and 
the great King Brian, joined their forces in the cause of Ire- 
land. In that grand day, when the morning sun arose, the 
battle began : and it was not until the sun set in the evening 
that the last Dane was swept from the field, and they withdrew 
to their ships, leaving six thousand dead bodies of their 
warriors behind them. Thus did Ireland, 2inited, know how to 
deal with her Danish invaders ; thus would Ireland have dealt 
with Fitzstephen and his Normans ; but, on the day when they 
landed, the curse of disunion and discord was amongst the 
people. Finally, after three hundred years of invasion, Brian, 
on that Good Friday of 1014, cast out the Danes forever, and 
from the plains of Clontarf drove them into Dublin Bay. 
Well, behind them they left the ruins of all the religion they had 
found. They left a people, who had, indeed, not lost their 
faith, but a people who were terribly shaken and demoralized 
by three hundred years of bloodshed and of war. One-half of 
it — one-sixth of it — would have been sufficient to ruin any 
other people ; but the element that kept Ireland alive — the ele- 
ment that kept the Irish nationality alive in the hearts of the 
people — the element that preserved ci\'ilization in spite of three 



Told in Her Ruins. 



209 



centuries of war, was the element of Ireland's faith, and the 
traditions of the nation's by-gone glory. 

And now we arrive at the year 11 34. Thirty years before, in 
the year 1 103, the last Danish army was conquered and routed 
on the shores of Strangford Lough, in the North, and the last 
Danish King took his departure forever from the green shores 
of Erin. Thirty years have elapsed. Ireland is struggling to 
restore her shattered temples, her ruined altars, and to build up 
again, in all its former glory and sanctity, her nationality and 
monastic priesthood. Then St. Malachi — great, glorious, and 
venerable name ! — St. Malachi, in whom the best blood of Ire- 
land's kings was mingled with the best blood of Ireland's saints 
— was Archbishop of Armagh. In the year 1 1 34, he invited 
into Ireland the Cistercian and the Benedictine monks. They 
came with all the traditions of the most exalted sanctity — with 
a spirit not less mild nor less holy than the spirit of a Dominic 
or an Augustine, and built up the glories of Lindisfarne, of 
lona, of Mellifont, of Monasterboice, and of Monastereven, 
and all these magnificent ruins of which I spoke — the sacred 
monastic ruins of Ireland. Then the wondering world beheld 
such grand achievements as it never saw before, outrivalling 
in the splendor of their magnificence the grandeur of those 
temples which still attest the mediaeval greatness of Bel- 
gium, of France, and of Italy. Then did the Irish people 
see, enshrined in these houses, the holy solitaries and monks 
from Clairveaux, with the light of the great St. Bernard shining 
upon them from his grave. But only thirty years more passed 
— thirty years only ; and, behold, a trumpet is heard on the 
eastern coast of Ireland : the shore and the hills of that Wex- 
ford coast re-echo to the shouts of the Norman, as he sets his 
accursed foot upon the soil of Erin. Divided as the nation was 
— chieftain fighting against chieftain — for, when the great King 
Brian was slain at Clontarf, and his son and his grandson were 
killed, and the three generations of the royal family thus swept 
away — every strong man in the land stood up and put in his 
claim for the sovereignty — by this division the Anglo-Norman 
was able to fix himself in the land. Battles were fought on 
every hill in Ireland ; the most horrible scenes of the Danish 
invasion were renewed again. But Ireland is no longer able to 
shake the Saxon from her bosom ; for Ireland is no longer able 

14 



2 10 



TJie History of Ireland, as 



to strike him as one man. The name of United Irishmen" 
has been a name, and nothing but a name, since the day that 
Brian Boru was slain at Clontarf until this present moment. 
Would to God that this name of United Irishmen meant some- 
thing more than an idle word ! Would to God that, again, to- 
day, we were all united for some great and glorious purpose ! 
Would to God that the blessing of our ancient, glorious unity 
was upon us ! Would to God that the blessing even of a com- 
mon purpose in the love of our country guided us ! then, indeed, 
would the Celtic race and the Celtic nation be as strong as ever 
it was — as strong as it was upon that evening at Clontarf, which 
beheld Erin weeping over her martyred Brian, but beheld her 
with the crown still upon her brow. 

Sometimes victorious, yet oftener defeated — defeated not so 
much by the shock of the Norman onset as by the treachery 
and the feuds of her own chieftains — the heart of the nation was 
broken ; and behold, from the far sunny shores of Italy, there 
came to Ireland other monks and other missionaries, clothed in 
this very habit which I now wear, or in the sweet brown habit 
of St. Francis, or the glorious dress of St. Augustine. Unlike 
the monks who gave themselves up to contemplation, and who 
had large possessions, large houses — these men came among the 
people, to make themselves at home among the people, to be- 
come the soggarths aroon' of Ireland. They came with a 
learning as great as that of the Irish monks of old — with a 
sturdy devotion, as energetic as that of Columbkille, or of 
Kevin of Glendalough ; they came with a message of peace, of 
consolation, and of hope to this heart-broken people ; and they 
came nearly seven hundred years ago to the Irish shores. The 
Irish people received them with a kind of supernatural instinct 
that they had found their champions and their priestly heroes ; 
and for nearly seven hundred years the Franciscan and his 
Dominican brother have dwelt together in the land. Instead of 
building up magnificent, wonderful edifices, like Holy Cross, or 
Mellifont, or Dunbrodie ; instead of covering acres with the 
grandeur of their buildings, these Dominicans and Franciscans 
went out in small companies — ten, or twelve, or twenty — and 
they went into remote towns and villages, and there they dwelt, 
and built quietly a convent for themselves ; and they educated 
the people themselves ; and, by-and-by, the people in the next 



Told in Her Rums. 



211 



generation learned to love the disciples of St. Dominic and St. 
Francis, as they beheld the churches so multiplied. In every 
townland of Ireland there was either a Dominican or a Franciscan 
church or convent. The priests of Ireland welcomed them ; the 
holy bishops of Ireland sustained them ; the ancient religious 
of Ireland gave them the right-hand of friendship ; and the Cis- 
tercians or Benedictines gave them, very often, indeed, some of 
their own churches wherein to found their congregation, or to 
begin their missions. They came to dwell in the land early in 
the twelfth century, and, until the fifteenth century, strange to 
say, it was not yet found out what was the hidden design of 
Providence in bringing them there, in what was once their own 
true and ancient missionary Ireland. 

During these three hundred years, the combat for Ireland's 
nationality was still continued. The O'Neill, the O'Brien, the 
O'Donnell, the McGuire, the O'More, kept the national sword 
waving in the air. The Franciscans and the Dominicans cheered 
them, entered into their feelings, and they could only not be 
said to be more Irish than the Irish themselves, because they 
were the heart's blood of Ireland. They were the light of the 
national councils of the chieftains of Ireland, as their historians 
were the faithful annalists of the glories of these days of combat. 
They saw the trouble ; and yet, for three hundred years the 
Franciscan and the Dominican had not discovered what his real 
mission to Ireland was. But at the end of the three hundred 
years came the fifteenth century. Then came the cloud of relig- 
ious persecution over the land. All the hatred that divided the 
Saxon and the Celt, on the principle of nationality, was now height- 
ened by the additional hatred of religious discord and division ; 
and Irishmen, if they hated the Saxon before, as the enemy of 
Ireland's nationality, from the fifteenth century hated him with 
an additional hatred, as the enemy of Ireland's faith and Ire- 
land's religion. The sword was drawm. My friends, I speak 
not in indignation, but in sorrow ; and I know that if there be 
one amongst you, my fellow-countrymen, here to-night — if there 
be a man who differs with me in religion — to that man I sa}* : 
" Brother and friend, you feel as deeply as I do a feeling of in- 
dignation and of regret for the religious persecution of our native 
land." No man feels it more — no man regrets more bittcrh' the 
element of religious discord, the terrible persecution of these 



212 



TJic History of Ireland, as 



three hundred years, through which Ireland — Catholic Ireland 
— has been obliged to pass ; no man feels this more than the 
high-minded, honest, kind-hearted Irish Protestant. And why 
should he not feel it ? If it was Catholic Ireland that had per- 
secuted Protestant Ireland for that time, and with such inten- 
sity, I should hang my head for shame. 

Well, that mild, scrupulous, holy man, Henry the Eighth, in 
the middle of the fifteenth century got a scruple of conscience ! 
Perhaps it was whilst he was saying his prayers — he began to 
get uneasy, and to be afraid that, maybe, his wife wasn't his 
wife at all ! He wrote a letter to the pope, and he said: Holy 
Father, I am very uneasy in my mind ! " The fact was, there 
was a very nice young lady in the court. Her name was Anna 
Boleyn. She was a great beauty. Henry got very fond of her, 
and he wanted to marry her. But he could not marry her, be- 
cause he was already a married man. So he wrote to the pope, 
and he said he was uneasy in his mind — he had a scruple of 
conscience ; and he said : ^' Holy Father, grant me a favor. 
Grant me a divorce from Catherine of Arragon. I have been 
married to her for several years. She has had several children 
by me. Just grant me this little favor. I want a divorce ! " 
The pope sent back word to him : Don't be uneasy at all in 
your mind ! Stick to your wife like a man ; and don't be 
troubling me with your scruples." Well, Henry threw the pope 
over. He married the young woman whilst his former wife was 
living — and he should have been taken that very day and tried 
before the Lord Chief Justice of England, and transported for 
life. And why ? Because if it had been any other man in 
England that did it but the king, that man would have been 
transported for life ; and the king is as much bound by the 
laws of God, and of justice, and conscience, and morality, as 
any other man. When Henry separated from the pope he 
made himself head of the Church ; and he told the people of 
England that he would manage their consciences for them 
for the future. But when he called upon Ireland to join him 
in this strange and (indeed I think my Protestant friends will 
admit) insane act, — (for such, indeed, I think my Protestant 
friends will admit this act to be ; for, I think, it was nothing 
short of insanity for any man of sense to say : " I will take 
the law of God as preached from the lips and illustrated in 



Told in Her Ruins. 



213 



the life of Henry the Eighth "), Ireland refused. Henry 

drew the sword, and declared that Ireland should acknowledge 
him as the head of the Church ; that she should part with her 
ancient faith, and with all the traditions of her history, to 
sustain him in his measures, or that he would exterminate the 
Irish race. Another scruple of conscience came to this tender- 
hearted man ! And what do you think it was ? Oh, he said, I 
am greatly afraid the friars and the priests are not leading good 
lives. So he set up what we call a ^' commission ;" and he sent 
it to Ireland to inquire what sort of lives the monks and friars 
and priests and nuns were leading ; and the commissioners sent 
back word to him, that they could not find any great fault with 
them ; but that, on the whole, they thought it would be better 
to turn them out ! So they took their convents and their 
churches, and whatever little property they possessed, and these 
commissioners sold them, and put the money into their own 
pockets. There was a beautiful simplicity about the whole plan. 
Well, my friends, then came the hour of the ruin of the dear old 
convents of the Franciscans and Dominicans. Their inmates 
were driven out at the point of the sword ; they were scattered 
like sheep over the land. Five pounds was the price set upon 
the head of the friar or priest — the same price that was set upon 
the head of a wolf. They were hunted throughout the land ; 
and when they fled for their lives from their convent homes, 
the Irish people opened their hearts, and said, Come to us, 
Soggarth Aroon^ Throughout the length and breadth of the 
land they were scattered, with no shelter but the canopy of 
heaven ; with no Sunday sacrifice to remind the people of 
God ; no Mass celebrated in public, and no Gospel preached ; 
and yet they succeeded for three hundred years in preserving 
the glorious Catholic faith, that is as strong in Ireland to-day as 
ever it was. These venerable ruins tell the tale of the nation's 
woe, of the nation's sorrow. As long as it was merely a ques- 
tion of destroying a Cistercian or a Benedictine Abbey, there 
were so few of these in the land, that the people did not feel it 
much. But when the persecution came upon the B/ircahir, as 
the friar was called — the men whom everybody knew — the men 
whom everybody came to look up to for consolation in afflic- 
tion or in sorrow ; when it came upon him — then it brought 
sorrow and affliction to every village, to every little town — to 



214 



TJie History of Ireland^ as 



every man in Ireland. There were, at this time, upwards of 
eighty convents of rehgious — Franciscans and Dominicans — in 
Ireland, that numbered very close upon a thousand priests of 
each order. There were nearly a thousand Irish Franciscans, 
and nearly a thousand Irish Dominican priests, when Henry 
began his persecution. He was succeeded, after a brief interval 
of thirty years, by his daughter Elizabeth. How many Do- 
minicans, do you think, were then left in Ireland? There were 
a thousand, you say? Oh, God of heaven ! there were only 
four of them left — only four! All the rest of these heroic men 
had stained their white habit with the blood that they shed for 
God and for their country. Twenty thousand men it took 
Elizabeth, for as many years as there were thousands of them, to 
try to plant the seedling of Protestantism on Irish soil. The 
ground was dug as for a grave ; the seed of Protestantism was 
cast into that soil ; and the blood of the nation was poured in, 
to warm it and bring it forth. It never grew — it never came 
forth ; it never bloomed ! Ireland was as Catholic the day that 
Elizabeth died at Hampton Court, gnawing the flesh off her 
hands in despair, and blaspheming God — Ireland was as Catho- 
lic that day as she was the day that Henry the Eighth vainly 
commanded her first to become Protestant. 

Then came a little breathing-time — a very short time — and 
in fifty years there were six hundred Irish Dominican priests in 
Ireland again. They studied in Spain, i^ France, in Italy. 
These were the youth, the children, of Irish fathers and 
mothers, who cheerfully gave them up, though they knew, 
almost to a certainty, that they were devoting them to a mar- 
tyr's death ; but they gave them up for God. Smuggled out 
of the country, they studied in these foreign lands ; and they 
came back again, by night and by stealth, and they landed 
upon the shores of Ireland ; and when Cromwell came he found 
six hundred Irish Dominicans upon the Irish land. Ten years 
after — only ten years passed — and again the Irish Dominican 
preachers assembled to count up their numbers, and to tell how 
many survived and how many had fallen. How many do you 
think were left out of the six hundred ? But one hundred and 
fifty were left ; four hundred and fifty had perished — had shed 
their blood for their country, or had been shipped away to Bar- 
badoes as slaves. These are the tales their ruins tell. I need 



Told in Her Ruins. 



215 



not speak of their noble martyrs. Oh, if these moss-grown 
stones of the Irish Franciscan and Dominican ruins could 
speak, they would tell how the people gave up everything they 
had, for years and years, as wave after wave of successive per- 
secutions and confiscations and robbery rolled over them — 
rather than renounce their glorious faith or their glorious priest- 
hood. 

When Elizabeth died, the Irish Catholics thought her suc- 
cessor, James I., would give them at least leave to live ; and, 
accordingly, for a short time after he became king, James kept 
his own counsel, and he did not tell the Irish Catholics whether 
he would grant them any concessions or not ; but he must have 
given them some encouragement, for they befriended him, as 
they had always done to the House of Stuart. But what do 
you think the people did ? As soon as the notion that they 
would be allowed to live in the land took possession of them, 
and that they would be allow^ed to take possession of the 
estates they had been robbed of — instead of minding them- 
selves, the very first thing they did — to the credit of Irish 
fidelity be it said — was to set about restoring the Franciscan 
and Dominican abbeys. It was thus they restored the Black 
Abbey in Kilkenny, a Dominican house ; they restored the 
Dominican Convent in Waterford, Multifarnham, in West- 
meath, and others ; and these in a few months grew up into all 
their former beauty from ruin, under the loving, faithful, re- 
storing hands of the Irish people. But soon came a letter 
from the king; and it began with these notable words : " It has 
been told to us, that some of our Irish subjects imagined that 
we were about to grant them liberty of conscience." No such 
thing ! Liberty of conscience for Irish Catholics ! No ! 
Hordes of persecutors were let loose again, and the storms 
of persecution that burst over Ireland in the days of James 
I. were quite as bad and as terrible as any that rained down 
blood upon the land in the days of Queen Elizabeth. And so, 
with varying fortunes, now of hope, and now of fear, this self- 
same game went on. The English determined that they would 
make one part of Ireland, at least, Protestant, and that the fair- 
est and the best portion of it, as they imagined — namely, the 
province of Ulster. Now, mark the simple way they went about 
it. They made up their minds that they would make one pro- 



* 



2l6 



TJic History of Ireland, as 



vince of Ireland Protestant, to begin with, in order that it might 
spread out by degrees to the others. And what did they do ? 
They gave notice to every CathoHc in Ulster to pack up and 
begone — to leave the land. They confiscated every single acre 
in the fair province of Ulster ; and the Protestant Primate, the 
Archbishop of Armagh — a very holy man, who was always 
preaching to the people not to be too fond of the things of this 
vrorld — he got forty-three thousand acres of the best land of 
these convents in fee. Trinity College, in Dublin, got thirty 
thousand acres. There were certain guilds of traders in Lon- 
don — the skinners," tanners," the 'Mrysalters ; " and what 
do you think these London trade associations got ? They got 
a present of two hundred and nine thousand eight hundred acres 
of the finest land in Ulster! Then all the rest of the province 
was given in lots of one thousand, one thousand five hundred, 
to two thousand acres, to Scotchmen and Englishmen. But the 
very deed that gave it obliged them to take their oath that they 
would accept that land upon this condition — not so much as to 
give a day's work to a laboring man, unless that laboring man 
took his oath that he was not a Catholic. And so Ulster was 
disposed of. That remained until Cromwell came ; and when 
the second estimate w^as made of the kingdom it was discovered 
that there were nearly five millions of acres lying still in the 
hands of the Catholics. And what did Cromwell do ? He 
quietly made a law, and he published it ; and he said, on the ist 
of May, 1654, every Catholic in Ireland was to cross the Shan- 
non, and to go into Connaught. Now, the river Shannon cuts 
off five of the western counties from the rest of Ireland, and 
these five counties, though very large in extent, have more of 
waste land, of bog, and of hard, unproductive, stony soil than 
all the rest of Ireland. I am at liberty to say this, because I, 
myself, am the heart's blood of a Connaughtman. If any other 
man said this of Connaught, I would have to say my prayers, 
and keep a very sharp eye about me, to try to keep my temper. 
But it is quite true ; with all our love for our native land, with 
all my love for my native province — all that love won't put a 
blade of grass on an acre of limestone ; and that there are acres 
of such, we all know. It was an acre of this sort that a poor 
fellow was building a wall around. What are you building 
that wall for?" says the landlord. ''Are you afraid the cattle 



Told in Her Ruins. 



217 



will get out?" No, your honor, indeed I am not," says the 
poor man ; but I was afraid the poor brutes might get in." 
Then Cromwell sent the Catholics of Ireland to Connaught ; 
and, remember, he gave them their choice. He said, " Now, if 
you don't like to go to Connaught, I will send you to hell!" 
So the Catholic Irish put their heads together, and they said : 
It is better for us to go to Connaught. He may want the 
other place for himself." God forbid that I should condemn 
any man to hell ; but I cannot help thinking of what the poor 
carman said to myself in Dublin once. Going along, he saw a 
likeness of Cromwell, and he says, At all events, Cromwell has 
gone to the devil." I said, My man, don't be uncharitable. 
Don't say that ; it is uncharitable to say it." " Thunder and 
turf!" says he, sure if he is not gone to the devil, where is the 
use of having a devil at all ?" At any rate, my friends, wherever 
he is gone to, he confiscated at one act five millions of acres of 
Irish land ; with one stroke of his pen, he handed over to his 
Cromwellian soldiers five million acres of the best land in Ire- 
land, the golden vale of Tipperary included. Forty years later, 
the Catholics began to creep out of Connaught, and to buy little 
lots here and there, and they got a few lots here and there given 
to them by their Protestant friends. But, at any rate, it was 
discovered by the government of England, that the Catholics in 
Ireland were beginning to get a little bit of the land again ; and 
they issued another commission to inquire into the titles to 
these properties, and they found that there was a million two 
hundred thousand acres of the land recurred to the Catholics ; 
and they found, also, that that land belonged to the crown ; and 
the million two hundred thousand acres were again confiscated. 
So that, as soon as the people began to take hold of the land 
at all, down came the sword of persecution and of confiscation 
upon them. And Cromwell himself avowed with the greatest so- 
lemnity, that as Ireland would not become Protestant, Ireland 
should be destroyed. Now, is it to excite your feelings of hatred 
against England that I say these things ? No, no ; I don't want any 
man to hate his neighbor. I don't want to excite these feelings. 
Nor I don't believe it is necessary for me to excite them. I 
believe — sincerely I believe — that an effort to excite an Irish- 
man to a dislike of England, would be something like an effort 
to encourage a cat to take a mouse. I mention these facts just 



2i8 The History of Ireland, as 

because these are the things that Ireland's ruins tell us ; be- 
cause these are at once the history of the weakness and the 
sadness, yet of the strength and of the glory, of which these 
ruins tell us. I mention these things because they are matter 
of history ; and because, though we are the party that were on 
the ground, prostrate, there is nothing in the history of our 
fathers at which the Irishman of to-day need be ashamed, or 
hang his head. But if you want to know in what spirit our 
people dealt with all this persecution — if you want to know 
how we met those who were thus terrible in their persecution 
of us — I appeal to the history of my country, and I will state to 
you three great facts that will show you what was the glorious 
spirit of the Irish people, even in the midst of their sorrows ; 
how Christian it was and how patient it was ; how forgiving 
and loving even to our persecutors it was ; how grandly they 
illustrated the spirit of duty at the command of their Lord and 
Saviour ; and how magnificently they returned good for evil. 
The first of these facts is this : At the time that England in- 
vaded Ireland — towards the close of the twelfth century — 
there were a number of Englishmen in slavery in Ireland. 
They were taken prisoners of war ; they had come over with 
the Danes — from Wales, and from North Britain, with their 
Danish superiors ; and when Ireland conquered them, the rude, 
terrible custom of the times, and the shocks that all peaceful 
spirit had got by these wars, had bred so much ferocity in the 
people, that they actually made slaves of these Englishmen ! 
And they were everywhere in the land. When the English 
landed in Ireland, and when the first Irish blood was shed by 
them, the nation assembled by its bishops and archbishops in 
the synod at Armagh, there said, Perhaps the Almighty God 
is angry with us because we have these captive Christians and 
Saxons amongst us, and punishes us for having these slaves 
amongst us. In the name of God we will set them free." And 
on that day every soul in Ireland that was in slavery received 
his freedom. Oh, what a grand and glorious sight before 
heaven ! a nation fit to be free, yet enslaved — yet, with the very 
hand on which others try to fasten their chains, striking off the 
chains from these English slaves ! Never was there a more 
glorious illustration of the heavenly influence of Christianity 
since Christianity was preached amongst the nations. The 



Told in Her Ruins. 



next incident is rather a ludicrous one, and I am afraid that it 
will make you laugh. My friends, I know the English people 
well. Some of the best friends that I have in the world are in 
England. They have a great many fine qualities. But there is 
a secret, quiet, passive contempt for Ireland ; and I really be- 
lieve it exists amongst the very best of them, with very few ex- 
ceptions. An Englishman will not, as a general rule, hate an 
Irishman joined to him in faith ; but he )vill quietly despise us. 
If we rise and become fractious, then, perhaps, he will fear us ; 
but, generally speaking, in the English heart there is, no doubt, 
a contempt for Ireland and for Irishmen. Now, that showed 
itself remarkably in 1666. In that year the Catholics of Ire- 
land were ground into the very dust. That year saw one hun- 
dred thousand Irishmen — six thousand of them beautiful boys 
— sent off to be sold as slaves in the sugar-plantations of Bar- 
badoes. That year London was burned, just as Chicago was 
burned the other day. The people were left in misery. The 
Catholics of Ireland^ — hunted, persecuted, scarcely able to live 
— actually came together, and, out of pure charity, they made 
up for the famishing people of London a present — a grand pre- 
sent. They sent them over fifteen thousand fat bullocks ! 
They knew John Bull's taste for beef. They knew his liking 
for a good beefsteak, and they actually sent him the best beef 
in the world — Irish beef. The bullocks arrived in London. 
The people took them, slaughtered them, and ate them — and 
the Irish Catholics said, Much good may they do you !" Now 
comes the funny part of it. When the bullocks were all killed 
and eaten, the people of London got up a petition to the 
Houses of Parliament, and they got Parliament to act on that 
petition ; it was to the effect that this importation of Irish oxen 
was a nuisance ; and it should be abated. But they had taken 
good care to eat the meat before they voted it a nuisance. 

The third great instance of Ireland's magnanimous Christian- 
ity, and of the magnanimity with which this brave and grand 
old people knew how to return good for evil, was in the 
time of King James. In the year 1689, exactly twent}' years 
after the Irish bullocks had been voted a nuisance in London — 
in that year there happened to be, for a short time, a Catholic 
king in England. The tables were turned. The king wont to 
work and he turned out the Irish lord chancellor because he 



220 



TJie History of Ireland, as 



was a Protestant, and he put in a Catholic chancellor in his 
place. He turned out two Irish judges because the}' were Pro- 
testants, and he put in two Englishmen, Catholics, as judges in 
their place. He did various actions of this kind, persecuting 
men because they were Protestants and he was a Catholic. 
And now, mark. We have it on the evidence of histor}- that 
the Catholic archbishop of Armagh and the Catholic pope of 
Rome wrote to James.the Second, through the lord lieutenant 
over the Irish Catholics there, that he had no right to do that, 
and that it was ver}' wrong. Oh, what a contrast I \"\'hen 
Charles the First wished to grant some little remission of the 
persecution in Ireland, because he ^^-as in want of mone\-. the 
Irish Catholics sent him word that the}- would give him two 
hundred thousand pounds if he would onh' give them lea\-e to 
worship God as their own consciences directed. What encour- 
agement the king gave them we know not ; at an}' rate, the}^ 
sent him a sum of a hundred and fifty thousand pounds, by way 
of instalment. But the moment it became rumored abroad, the 
Protestant archbishop of Dublin got up in the pulpit of St. 
Patrick's cathedral, and he declared that a curse would fall upon 
the land and upon the king, because of these anticipated con- 
cessions to the Catholics. What a contrast is here presented 
between the action of the Catholic people of Ireland and the 
action of their oppressors ! And in these instances have we not 
presented to us the strongest evidence that the people who can 
act so by their enemies were incapable of being crushed ? Yes ; 
Ireland can never be crushed nor conquered : Ireland can never 
lose her nationality so long as she retains so high and so glorious 
a faith, and presents so magnificent an illustration of it in her 
national life. Never I She has not lost it I She has it to-da}\ 
She will have it in the higher and more perfect form of com- 
plete and entire national freedom ; for God does not abandon a 
race who not only cling to Him with an unchanging faith, but 
who also know how, in the midst of their sufferings, to illustrate 
that faith by so glorious, so liberal, so grand a spirit of Christian 
charity. 

And now, my friends, it is for me simply to draw one con- 
clusion, and to have done. Is there a man amongst us here to- 
night who is ashamed of his race or his native land, if that man 
have the high honor to be an Irishman? Is there a man living 



Told in Her Ruins. 



221 



that can point to a more glorious and a purer source whence he 
draws the blood in his veins, than the man who can point to 
the bravery of his Irish forefathers, or the immaculate purity of 
his Irish mother? We glory in them, and we glory in the faith 
for which our ancestors have died. We glory in the love of 
country that never — never, for an instant — admitted that Ireland 
was a mere province — that Ireland was merely a West Britain." 
Never, in our darkest hour, was that idea adapted to the Irish 
mind, or adopted by the will of the Irish people. And, there- 
fore, I say, if we glory in that faith — if we glory in the history 
of their national conduct and of their national love, oh, my 
friends and fellow-countrymen — I say it, as well as a priest as 
an Irishman — let us emulate their example ; let us learn to be 
generous to those who differ from us, and let us learn to be 
charitable, even to those who would fain injure us. We can 
thus conquer them. We can thus assure to the future of Ire- 
land the blessings that have been denied to her past — the bless- 
ing of religious equality, the blessing of religious liberty, the 
blessing of religious unity, which, one day or other, will spring 
up in Ireland again. I have often heard words of bitterness, 
aye, and of insult, addressed to myself in the North of Ireland, 
coming from Orange lips ; but I have always said to myself. He 
is an Irishman ; though he is an Orangeman, he is an Irishman. 
If he lives long enough, he will learn to love the priest that rep- 
resents Ireland's old faith ; but, if he die in his Orange dis- 
positions, his son or his grandson will yet shake hands with and 
bless the priest, when he and I are both in our graves. And 
wdiy do I say this? Because nothing bad, nothing uncharitable, 
nothing harsh or venomous ever yet lasted long upon the green 
soil of Ireland. If you throw a poisonous snake into the grass 
of Ireland, he will be sweetened, so as to lose his poison, or else 
he win die. Even the English people, when they landed, were 
not two hundred and fifty years in the land, until they were 
part of it ; the very Normans who invaded us became " more 
Irish than the Irish themselves." They became so fond of the 
country, that they were thoroughly imbued with its spirit.^ 
And so, any evil that we have in Ireland, is only a tem- 
porary and a passing evil, if we are only faithful to our 
traditions, and to the history of our country. To-da\-, 
there is religious disunion ; but, thanks be to God, I have 



The History of Ireland, as 



lived to see religious disabilities destroyed. And, if I were 
now in the position of addressing Irish Orangemen, I would 
say, ''Men of Erin, three cheers for the Church disestablish- 
ment ! " And if they should ask me, " Why ? " I would answer, 
" It was right and proper to disestablish the Church, because the 
' Established Church ' was put in between ydu and me, and we 
ought to love each other, for we are both Irish ! " Every class 
in Ireland will be draw^n closer to the other by this disestablish- 
ment ; and the honest Protestant man will begin to know a 
little more of his Catholic brother, and to admire him ; and the 
Catholic will begin to know a little more of the Orangeman, and, 
perhaps, to say, After all, he is not half so bad as he appears." 
And believe me, my friends, that, breathing the air of Ireland, 
which is Catholic, eating the bread made out of the wheat which 
grows out on Irish soil — they get so infused w4th Catholic blood, 
that as soon as the Orangeman begins to have the slightest re- 
gard or love for his Catholic fellow-countryman, he is on the 
highway to become a Catholic — for a Catholic he will be, some 
time or other. As a man said to me very emphatically once : 
They will all be Catholics one day, surely, sir, if they only stay 
long enough in the country ! " I say, my friends, that the past 
is the best guarantee for the future. We have seen the past in 
some of its glories. What is the future to be ? What is the 
future that is yet to dawn on this dearly-loved land of ours ? 
Oh, how glorious w^ill that future be, when all Irishmen shall be 
united in one common faith and one common love ! Oh, how 
fair will our beloved Erin be, when, clothed in religious unity, 
religious equality and freedom, she shall rise out of the ocean 
wave, as fair, as lovely, in the end of time, as she was in the 
glorious 'days when the world, entranced by her beauty, pro- 
claimed her to be the mother of saints and sages. Yes, I see 
her rising emancipated ; no trace of blood or persecution on her 
virgin face ; the crown, so long lost to her, resting again upon 
her fair brow ! I see her in peace and concord with all the 
nations around her, and with her own children within her. I 
see her venerated by the nations afar off, and, most of all, by the 
mighty nation which, in that day, in its strength, and in its 
youth, and in its vigor, shall sway the destinies of the world. I 
see her as Columbia salutes her across the ocean waves. But 
the light of freedom coming from around my mother's face will 



Told in Her Ruins, 



'reflect the light of freedom coming from the face of that nation 
which has been nursed in freedom, cradled in freedom, and 
which has never violated the sacred principles of religious free- 
dom and religious equality. I see her with the light of faith 
shining upon her face ; and I see her revered, beloved, and 
cherished by the nations, as an ancient and a most precious 
thing ! I behold her rising in the energy of a second birth, 
when nations that have held their heads high are humbled in 
the dust ! And so I hail thee, O, mother Erin ! and I say to 
thee — 

" The nations have fallen, but thou still art young ; 
Thy sun is but rising when others have set ; 
And though slavery's clouds round thy morning have hung, 
The full noon of Freedom shall beam round thee yet ! " 



THE SUPERNATURAL LIFE, THE 
ABSORBING LIFE OF THE 
IRISH PEOPLE. 



[Delivered in the Church of St. Vincent Ferrer, New York, on Friday, April 26th, 1872.] 

HE occasion of my addressing you this evening arises 
from the fact that many who were kind enough to take 
tickets for the lecture at Cooper Institute, were pre- 
vented from being present, by the great crowds of 
kind sympathizing friends that greeted me on that occasion. 
While, therefore, I am bound in justice to do my best to 
meet the requirements of those who were kind enough to 
purchase tickets for that lecture, I also wish to apologize to 
you for any inconvenience that you may have suffered on 
that evening from having been excluded. I do not desire, on 
this occasion, to go over the same subject or the same ground 
as on the evening at Cooper Institute, but I will endeavor 
to lead you into the inner spirit that animated the great 
struggle for Ireland's faith and for Ireland's nationality. To 
those amongst you who, like myself, are Irish, the subject will 
be pleasing and interesting from a national point of view. To 
those amongst you who are not Irish, the subject will still be in- 
teresting, for I know of no more interesting subject to occupy 
the attention of any honorable or high-minded man, than the 
contemplation of a people in a noble struggle for their life, both 
in their religion and in their national existence. 

Now, first of all, my dear friends, consider that there are two 
elements in every man — two elements of life — namely, the 
natural and the supernatural, the temporal and the everlasting, 
the corporeal and the spiritual. If we reflect a little upon the 




The Supernatural Life of the Irish People. 



225 



nature of man, we shall find that not only did the Almic^hty 
God endow us with a natural life, a bodily existence, but that, 
in giving to us the spiritual essence of the soul which is our 
interior principle of life, and stamping upon that soul his own 
divine image and likeness, as he tells us, it was the intention of 
the Almighty God that every man should live not only by the 
real, natural, and corporeal life of the body, but by the spiritual 
and supernatural life of the soul. The body has its require- 
ments, its necessities, its dangers, its pleasures ; and so, in like 
manner, the soul of man has its requirements, its necessities, its 
dangers, its pleasures ; and he is indeed a mean specimen of 
our humanity who does not live more for the intellectual and 
the spiritual objects of the soul, than for the mere transitory 
and material objects of the body. Yet, between the material 
and the supernatural, the corporeal and the spiritual, there is a 
strict analogy and resemblance. In the body, a man must be 
born in order to begin his existence in this world, and the first 
necessary element of life is that birth, which is the beginning 
of life. Then, when the little infant is born into the world, he 
requires daily food that he may grow and wax strong every day 
until he comes from childhood to youth and from youth to the 
fullness and the strength of his manhood. But when he has at- 
tained to this full growth and strength, still does he require 
food every day of his life in order to preserve him in that 
health and strength which he enjoys. Yet with all this incipience 
of being and birth, with all this sustenance of daily food, from out 
the very nature of the body, from out a thousand causes that 
surround him, every man of us must at some time or other feel 
bodily disease and infirmity. Then the remedy — the cure — is 
necessary, in order to restore us to our health and vigor once more. 

Behold the three great necessities of the bodily or corporeal 
life in man. To begin to exist, he must be born. To continue 
his existence, in the full maintenance of his health and strength, 
he must be fed ; and to restore him, whenever, by disease or 
infirmity, he falls away from the fullness of that existence, he 
must apply proper remedies. As it is with the body, so it is 
with the spirit. As it is in the order of nature, so it is in the 
order of grace. The soul also must be born into its super- 
natural life. The soul must be strengthened by supernatural 
food in order to maintain its celestial strength in that super- 

15 



226 



The Sup e 7' natural Life 



natural life. The soul, whenever it fails, or falls away from that 
strength and that supernatural existence, must be provided with 
remedies, in order that it may return once more to the fullness 
of its supernatural manhood. And this is precisely the point 
where the world fails to comprehend, I will not say the gifts of 
God, but even the wants of man. If there be one evil greater 
than all others in this nineteenth century of ours, it is that 
men content themselves with that which is merely natural. 
They seek all that is required for the strength and the enjoy- 
ment of the natural life, and they do not rise, and they refuse — 
deliberately refuse — to rise, even in thought, even in concep- 
tion, to the idea of the supernatural life, and the supernatural 
requirements of man. The absence of the supernatural idea, 
the absence of the supernatural craving or appetite, the con- 
tentment with being deprived of the supernatural element, is 
the great evil of our day ; and I lay that evil solemnly, as a 
historian as well as a priest, at the door of Protestantism. Not 
only did Protestantism assail this, that, or the other specific 
doctrine of the Church of God, but Protestantism killed and 
destroyed the supernatural life in man. In order to see this, 
all you have to do is to reflect Avhat are the three elements of 
the supernatural life. What do I mean when I speak of the 
supernatural element of life ? I mean this : that we are obliged 
to live not only for time, but for eternity ; not only for this 
world, but for the world that is to come ; not only for our fel- 
low-men, but, above all, for our God, who made us. Know that 
no. man can live for God unless he lives in God. Let me repeat 
this great truth again : No man can live for God unless he lives 
in God ; and in order to live in God, he must be born unto God. 
He must begin to live in God, if he is to live in him at all — ^just 
as a man must be born into this world naturally, if he is to live 
in this world. If, then, God in his wisdom, in his mercy, in his 
grace, in his divine and eternal purposes, be the supernatural 
life of man, it follows that the supernatural birth of the soul lies 
in its being incorporated in Jesus Christ, engrafted upon him — 
as St. Paul says, let into him — and he makes this comparison : 
When the gardener has a wild olive-tree — stunted, crooked, sap- 
less — bearing, perhaps, a few wild berries, without oil or without 
sap in them — what does he do ? He cuts off a branch of the 
wild olive-tree, and he engrafts it into the bark and into the 



of the Irish People. 



body — the trunk — of a fully-matured olive, of a fruitful tree, and 
then the sap of the fruitful tree passes into the wild and hereto- 
fore fruitless branch, and it brings forth the fullness of its fruit, 
because of the better life and sap that was let into it. So, ob- 
served St. Paul, the Apostle, we, as children of nature, and in a 
merely natural life, are born of a wild olive-tree — the sinful man ; 
but Christ, our Lord, the man from heaven, came down teem- 
ing and overflowing with the graces of God, with the sanctity of 
God, and then, taking us from the natural stem, he engrafted us 
upon himself, the true olive-tree ; and thus we are let into 
Jesus Christ, until that grace, which is the essence of the divine 
nature of God in all perfection, is participated unto us ; where- 
fore, St. Peter does not hesitate to call grace a kind of participa- 
tion of the divine nature. Thus, my dear friends, this engrafting 
upon Christ is the spiritual and supernatural birth and beginning 
of that supernatural life that is in man. How is this effected ? 
I answer : By the sacrament of baptism ; and here, upon the 
very threshold of supernatural life, I find, to my horror and to 
my astonishment, that one of the first fruits of Protestantism is 
the denial of baptismal regeneration, the denial of baptismal grace, 
and the practical refusal to administer the sacrament. It was not 
so in the first days of Protestantism ; it was not so for many a 
long year. The necessity of a supernatural and a spiritual birth 
was recognized even when other things were denied ; but to-day 
it has come to this, that the genius and the spirit of popular Pro- 
testantism is opposed to the idea of baptismal regeneration. It 
goes now by the name of figment of baptismal regeneration. 
They scoff at it, and it is only a few years since that a Protest- 
ant clergyman in England refused to baptize the children who 
were born in his parish, and grounded his refusal upon an avowal 
that he did not believe in the necessity of baptism, or that it 
brought any good or grace to the young soul. At first the Pro- 
testant world was alarmed. The Protestant Bishop of Exeter 
suspended this clergyman. The clergyman appealed to the 
head of the Protestant Church of England — namely, to Queen 
Victoria and her council : the Queen, good woman, didn't mind 
him at all ; she knew nothing about the matter. She had her 
family and her children to look after, and her husband was alive 
at the time: she didn't mind him at all ; she took no notice of 
him, but the council did : and they came together, these men — 



228 



The Supernatural Life 



they might have been Jews, they might have been infidels, they 
might have been anything you hke ; and when I say this I do 
not mean the sHghtest disrespect to the Jews or infidels ; but I 
simply say they might have been men who did not believe at 
all in Christianity nor in Christ. They came together, and they 
decreed that baptismal regeneration, or the spiritual birth in 
Christ, was no part of Protestant teaching. Consequently, the 
Bishop got an order from the council to remove his suspension, 
and the clergyman triumphed. There was a solemn act, a dec- 
laration of faith on the part of what they call the Head of the 
Church, and a submission on the part of the Church itself to the 
principle that Protestantism, as such, as a religion, refused to 
acknowledge even the very beginning of the supernatural life, 
which, is baptism. But when a man is baptized into Christ, and 
begins to live the supernatural life, the next thing that is neces- 
sary for him, just as in the natural life, is to receive his food. 
What food has God prepared for him ? He has prepared a two- 
fold kind of food ; the teaching of His truth, upon which the 
intelligence of the child is to be fed, and His own divine pres- 
ence, in the sacrament of the Eucharist, which is the food of 
the Christian soul in its supernatural life, necessary for that life, 
and without which man can have no life in him. " Unless you 
eat of the flesh of the Son of Man," says Christ, ''and drink of 
His blood, you shall not have life in you." Here again Protest- 
antism is the destruction of the supernatural life, in its denial of 
Christ's presence in the Blessed Sacrament. But even with this 
sacramental food, high and holy as it is, great and infinite in its 
power and strength— such is the atmosphere in which we live, 
such is the corruption in the midst of which our lot is cast, so 
numerous are the scandals and the bad examples around us, that 
there is still danger that the Christian man in his supernatural 
life may fail, and fall away somewhat, and perhaps even entirely, 
from that principle of divine grace, and from Jesus Christ who 
is the life of us all. This failing, this falling away, is accom- 
plished by sin. Sin is the evil, sin is the infirmity, sin is the 
disease, the fever of the soul, and therefore it was necessary for 
the Son of God, when He made Himself the supernatural life 
of our souls, not only to give us a beginning of life in baptism, 
not only to give us the food and strength of that life in Holy 
Communion, but also to provide a remedy for taking away sin, 



of the Irish People. 



229 



and restoring the soul to its first strength and purity again. 
This He did in the day when, instituting the Sacrament of Pen- 
ance, He gave to His Apostles the power to lift up omnipotent 
hands over the sinner's head, and apply to him the graces of 
Jesus Christ through sacramental absolution, and in that appli- 
cation of grace, to wipe away his sins. Once more do I en- 
counter in Protestantism the ruin of man's spiritual life, in its 
denial of the mercy of God, which reaches the soul in the Sac- 
rament of Penance. 

Now, my friends, in these three consist the supernatural life, 
and you see how analogous, or how like it is to the natural life. 
I was born into this world, I was born unto God by baptism, I 
was fed in my infancy, in my youth, in my manhood ; I am fed 
wdth the supernatural life at the altar. I have been lifted up 
from the bed of sickness, from the impotency and Aveakness of 
disease, and the racking pain of fever, by the powerful and the 
skillful hand of a physician who knew how to purge and cleanse 
my bodily frame from the elements of that disease. I have been 
lifted up from the bed of sin by the wise, and skillful, and absolv- 
ing hand of God's grace. 

Let us go one step further. If a man, born into the world, 
an infant, a child, is denied his food, if in his sickness he is 
denied the help of a physician or the remedies which are neces- 
sary for him, what follows ? It follows that he dies. And so, 
in like manner, my Catholic friends, baptism alone will not save 
us ; baptism alone will not preserve in us the life which it has 
begun in us. We must keep that life by Holy Communion ; we 
must restore that life, repair its losses, in the Sacrament of Pen- 
ance, or else we inevitably die. Oh I if I could only drive this 
thought into the minds and into the hearts of those Catholic 
brethren of mine who seem to think that a man can live with- 
out confession or communion. You might as well, my friends, 
expect to live without tasting food ; you would be dead after 
three or four days ; and so I say to you, the man who neglects 
confession and communion must die. 

Again, not only is the spiritual life of man analogous to the 
natural — not only is it like the natural — but it acts upon the natu- 
ral. The supernatural life in man acts upon him, upon his daily 
actions, upon his natural desires and tendencies, shapes and 
influences his life, and preserves him in the integrity of his being 



230 



TJic Supernatural Life 



— for, mark what I tell you, that man only lives half a life, 
and that the least half, who lives exclusively by the natural 
life, and neglects the supernatural. The integrity of man's life 
embraces both, and begins with the supernatural ; and that 
supernatural agency at work within him — that union with God, 
that life in God, by divine grace acts upon his natural life. 
Hence the difference between a good and a bad man. You take 
these two : one of them believes, the other does not believe. 
One bows down his head with adoration and love at the name 
of Jesus Christ, the other scoffs and laughs when he hears that 
name, and blasphemes. One restrains his passions and his natu- 
ral inclinations, keeping them within strict virtue and purity, the 
other lets them out and lets his soul go out like water from 
him ; lets his heart become liquefied within him under the heat- 
ing influence of every evil passion, and flow from him in every 
form of impurity and sin. How unlike are the proud, yet base- 
minded, dishonest, impure, luxurious men of the world, and the 
prayerful, pure-minded father of a family in the Catholic Church, 
faithful to his paternal obligations, faithful to the wife of his 
bosom, faithful as the guardian and educator of his children, 
living for his Church, and for prayer, and for the sacraments, 
and living for them and for his family, and for his children, far 
more than for himself. Take him and put him side by side with 
this man with whom we are all so familiar in this day of ours, 
the loose-living, licentious debauchee — the man who lives as if 
he were not a married man at all, neglects his wife, goes in the 
pursuit of every pleasure, comes home jaded, disgusted, sur- 
feited with sin, until every highest and holiest purpose of life is 
forgotten or only affords him disgust. Home has no charms for 
him. The pure-minded woman, the modest woman, that gave 
him her heart and her love, is despised by him, until at last he 
puzzles his brain to try to break' loose from his obligations as a 
husband and a father. Whence this difference between the two 
men ? The difference arises from the fact that the supernatural 
life acts upon the man who is united with God, shapes his life, 
restrains his passions, purifies his nature, directs his intentions, 
shapes and forms all his actions ; and thus we see that the super- 
natural life acts upon the natural, and is, as it were, the soul of 
a man's true existence. 

One thought more, my friends. What is a nation, a people, 



of the Irish People. 



a State? Why, it is nothing more than a collection of individuals. 
The man good or bad, the man faithful or unfaithful, the man 
pure or impure, is multiplied by three or four millions, or ten 
millions, or twenty millions, and there you have a nation. 
Therefore you see clearly, that whate\-er the man — the average 
man — is, that the nation will be ; that if the average man leads 
a supernatural as well as a natural life, then there will be a super- 
natural national life, as well as a natural life. Then the nation 
will live for something higher and better and holier and more 
lasting than this world ; for the nation is only the man multi- 
plied. And here again is one of the mistakes of this nineteenth 
century of ours, in our unreasoning and unthinking minds. We 
separate these two ideas, and we look upon a nation or a people 
as something distinct from the individuals who compose it. It 
is not so. Men are not surprised to find a nation doing an un- 
just act, declaring an unjust war, seizing upon their neighbor's 
property, depriving some neighboring people of their liberties 
and their rights. Why, what is it ? It is a national act, but it 
brings a personal responsibility home to every man, and the na- 
tion that does this is simply a multitude of robbers, a multitude 
of unjust men, and the Almighty God will judge that national 
sin by bringing it home to every man that took a part in it or 
who refused to offer his heart and hand in manful resistance. 
When, therefore, we consider a nation and a nation's life, we have 
a right to look for the supernatural as well as the natural, and 
if the supernatural be in the individual it will be in the nation. 
Nay, more, just as the supernatural life acts upon the natural in 
the individual man, so also in the life of a nation the super- 
natural will act upon the natural action of the nation — will shape 
their policy, will animate their desires, will give a purpose to 
their grand national action, will create public opinion, public 
sympathy and antipathy ; and we may explain the life of a na- 
tion by the supernatural. And, as we have seen, that where in 
the individual man there is the supernatural life in God, and for 
God, and with God, there that supernatural life preserves the 
integrity of the man's whole being, preserves him in purity, pre- 
serves him in health and in the integrity of his body ; so, also, 
in the nation, the supernatural life of a people preserves the 
honor, the integrity, the strength, purit}-, and vigor of their 
natural and national life. 



232 



The Supcriiatilral Life 



Now, you may well ask me, what does all this tend to, what 
are you driving at ? Simply this, my friends : I told you that I 
invited you to enter with me into the inner soul of the Irish 
people. I want to explain to you one great fact, and it is this : 
How comes it to pass that a nation, the most oppressed of all 
the nations on the face of the earth, not for a day, nor for a 
year, but for centuries ; a nation deprived of its rights, its con- 
stitutional rights habitually suspended ; a nation in which the 
immense body of the people had no rights at all, recognized nor 
enforced by law ; a nation trampled under foot, trampled down 
into the blood-stained earth by successive wave after wave of 
invasion, and by ruthless and remorseless persecution — how 
comes it to pass that this people has preserved the principle of 
its national existence ; that it never consented to merge its 
name, its history, its national individuality, into that of a neigh- 
boring and a powerful nation ? All that England has been doing 
for centuries, sometimes animated, perhaps, with a good inten- 
tion, very often with a bad one, has been to try to so mix up 
Ireland and England together that the Irish would lose sight of 
their past national history, that they would lose sight of the 
great fact that they are a distinct nationality, humble, subject, 
obedient to law, bowing down under th« yoke that was imposed 
upon them in spite of them — a conquered nation, but a nation 
still, and unto the end of time. How has this come to pass? 
Now, if you will reflect upon it, you will find that it is a mys- 
tery. You will find, my friends, if you carefully read the history 
of nations, that whenever one nation has succeeded in conquer- 
ing another, provided that other lay upon their frontier, that, 
after the lapse of ages, the conquering nation has succeeded in 
absorbing the very national existence of the race that it con- 
quered. Thus, for instance, we see how completely Rome suc- 
ceeded in absorbing and amalgamating all the neighboring petty 
kingdoms of Italy. She infused them into herself, so that all 
became one Roman empire. It was nothing but Rome. It was 
never called the empire of Rome and Tuscany, or the empire of 
Rome and Naples, or the empire of Rome and Gaul — never ; 
but the empire of Rome. England has never been able to call 
the two islands by one name. It is Great Britain and Ireland, 
and it Avill be so to the end. Nay, more ; we have there at our 
very door in that green old cluster of islands that rise out of the 



of the Irish People. 



eastern Atlantic — we have a kingdom, not quite so ancient as Ire- 
land, but a kingdom that lasted for centuries after Ireland's na- 
tionality seemed to be destroyed — namely, the kingdom of Scot- 
land. They were the same race — they were Celts, as we were — the 
same origin. In the remoter ages Scotland derived its inhabi- 
tants from the Celtic race. The same language, almost ; I have 
conversed with Highlanders, and almost understood every word 
of their language, it is so like my own native tongue. They 
preserved their line of kings, they preserved their magnificent 
nationality, splendid in its history, splendid in its virtues ; they 
had saints in their line of kings — that glorious line of Scottish 
monarchs crowned in Holyrood, the ancient palace of the land, 
by the heroic chieftains that stood around them. Strong as she 
was once in her language, strong in her position, strong in her 
religion and in her ideas of nationality, what is Scotland to- 
day? A mere destroyed nation — a province of Great Britain. 
Every tradition of Scottish nationality seems to have perished 
as a distinct nation ; and the only thing that a Scotchman of 
to-day sees to remind him of the olden time is the crumbling 
walls where once the monarch of the Scottish race sat en- 
throned. How can you explain this ? Scotland never was 
subjected to the same miseries that have been the fate of Ire- 
land. I am only speaking history, and I am speaking that 
history without the slightest passion. I am only analyzing and 
trying to explai4i a great fact. I am speaking history without 
the slightest disrespect for one people or another. If you Avere 
all Englishmen, or all Scotchmen, I should still be obliged, as a 
truth-telling and a historical man, to state the facts as I am 
stating them. How can we explain these phenomena? I 
answer : The true explanation lies here, that the supernatural 
life became so much the absorbing life of the Irish people that 
it acted upon their natural life and preserved the principle of 
their nationality. Ireland was born unto Christ fourteen hun- 
dred years ago. The film of Paganism fell from her eyes, and 
lifting up those eyes in the eagerness of her contemplation, she 
beheld the transcendent beauty of Jesus Christ. She opened her 
arms — this nation — and called Him to her bosom, and she has 
never parted with Him from that day to this. He has been her 
life, generation after generation, and all her children have been 
born individually unto him by baptism, and so, for more than 



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TJie Supernatural Life 



one thousand years, she lived, until three hundred years ago 
she was called upon to give up her life. England had already 
died. Protestantism arose three hundred years ago. It be- 
came the national religion of the English people ; and the first 
principle of Protestantism was to deny the Eucharistic food, 
which is the principle of supernatural life and strength, and 
the Sacramental grace, which is the only food of the soul. 
Now, if we take a man, and shut him up in a room, and refuse 
him his food, he will starve and die. If you take a man 
stricken down with fever, or with cholera, or with some terrible 
disease, and refuse him medical assistance, the man must die. 
The first principle of Protestantism was to deprive men and 
nations of the food and the medicine of the supernatural life ; 
and when the question was solemnly put to Ireland and to 
Scotland, " Will you consent to die ?" Scotland gave up her 
Catholic faith, and died. Ireland clung to that faith, laid hold 
of that religion with a grasp firm, decided, and terrible in its 
clutch, and refused to die. Scotland gave up the supernatural 
in order to preserve the natural. Ireland sacrificed the natural, 
her property, prosperity, wealth, let everything go for that faith 
which she had maintained for one thousand years. And I as- 
sert that there, in that supernatural life, in that supernatural 
principle, lies the whole secret of Ireland's nationality. 

Take an average Irishman — I don't care where you find him — 
and you will find that the very first principle in 'his mind is, I 
am not an Englishman, because I am a Catholic." Take an 
Irishman wherever he is found, all over the earth, and any 
casual observer will at once come to the conclusion, ''Oh; he 
is an Irishman, he is a Catholic!" The two go together. But 
you may ask me, " Wouldn't it be better for Ireland to be as 
Scotland is — a prosperous and a contented province — rather than 
a distressed and a discontented nationality?" Which of these 
two would you have the old land to be, my Irish fellow-coun- 
trymen ? To which of these two would you prefer to belong ? 
to Ireland as a prosperous and a contented province, forgetful 
of her glorious national history, deprived of her religion, no 
light upon her altars, no God in the sanctuary, no sacramental 
hand to be lifted over the sinner's head — Ireland banishing the 
name of Mary — Ireland canny and cunning, fruitful and rich, 
but having forsaken her God — Ireland blaspheming Patrick's 



of the IrisJi People. 



235 



name, Patrick's religion — turning away from her graves and 
saying: ''There is no hope anymore — no hope, no prayer;" 
but rich — canny, cunning, and commonplace. Can you im- 
agine this ? Oh no ! The Irishman, wherever he is, all the 
world over, the moment he sees the altar of a Catholic church, 
savs : 

" Cold in the earth at thy feet I w^ould rather be, 
Than wed what I love not, or turn one thought from thee." 

Ireland a province ! No ; rather be the child of a nation, rather 
be the son of a nation, even though upon my mother's brows I 
see a crown of thorns and on her hands the time-worn chains 
of slavery. Yet upon that mother's face I see the light of faith, 
of purity, and of God ; and far dearer to me is my mother Ire- 
land, a nation in her sorrow to-day, than if I beheld her rich, 
and commonplace, and vulgar, and impure, and forgetful of 
herself and of God. 

Again, a nation does not exist for a day, nor for a year, nor 
for a century. A nation's life is like the life of the Almighty 
God. A nation's history is in the past, and her life is in the far 
distant future. When that future comes — and it is coming in 
the order of things, in the order of nature — it will not bring 
ruin to Ireland. I don't profess to say that I desire it very 
ardently ; I am a loyal subject ; I don't wish to speak treason, 
even though I might here in this land ; I do not wish to say 
a single word that might on my return to Ireland be put before 
me as treason ; but I say that, in the ordinary course of things, 
nations as great as England is and has been have been broken up 
in the course of time, and I suppose that the most ardent and 
patriotic Englishman in the world does not expect his British Em- 
pire to last forever. Greece did not last forever. Assyria, 
Rome, Carthage did not last. A very loyal Englishman indeed, 
speaking of the Catholic Church, said : The Church of Rome 
saw the commencement of all the governments and of all the 
ecclesiastical establishments that now exist in the world ; and 
we feel no assurance that she is not destined to see the end of 
them all. She was great and respected before the Saxon had 
set foot on Britain, before the Frank had passed the Rhine, 
when Grecian eloquence still flourished in Antioch, when idols 
were still worshipped in the temple of Mecca. And she may 
still exist in undiminished vigor when some traveller from New 



236 



TJie Supernatural Life 



Zealand shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand in a 
broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the ruins of St. Paul." 
Now. I say that when that disruption comes, Scotland wrecks and 
goes down ; but out of that very ruin, that will shake to pieces 
this great Empire of Britain, Ireland, in virtue of her nationality 
and religion will rise into the grandeur and fullness of the strength 
and glory of that future which she has secured to herself by being 
faithful in the past. To-day she is in the dust ; she has been 
in the dust for ages ; but I ask you to look into history, study 
the past. When Holofernes came down upon Judea, and sum- 
moned the Jewish people, if they wished to preserve their lives 
and fortunes, to submit, be a province of the Assyrian Empire, 
to give up their religion and kneel at strange altars, if Judea in 
that day had consented, if she had said, ''Well, we believed 
that we were the people of God ; now oppression has come upon 
us, and we must yield if Judea foreswore her ancient faith, if 
she consented to forsake her ancient ideas of nationality, if she 
consented to lose her distinctness of race, and to merge herself 
in a stronger nation, but a stranger in blood, in race, in religion, 
oh, where would be the glories that followed that day ; where 
would be Judas Maccabeus ; where would be the glory of that 
family who led the people of God ; where would be all the 
subsequent distinctness of Jewish glory that followed that noble 
resistance, when a daughter of Judea w^as able to go forth, and 
with her woman's hand cut off the invader's head? The As- 
syrian Empire broke into pieces, but Judea remained, because 
the people had the grace to say in that day, '' You say you w^ill 
destroy us unless we give up our faith, unless we consent to be- 
come a province of your empire, unless we merge our distinct 
nationality in yours. Speak not so, for we are children of the 
saints, and w^e look forward to the promises which the Lord 
hath made to that people who never changes its faith in Him." 
Ireland looks forward to whatever of prosperity, whatever of 
freedom, whatever of glory is in store for her. She will not 
seek it before its time, with rash or rebellious hand. She has 
learned too well the lesson of patience. She will not seek it 
until God, in the revolution of ages, sends it to her ; but it will 
certainly come, because that nation has preserved its national 
existence by preserving its supernatural life in God. It will not 
always be night. The clouds will not always lie there. It will 



of the Irish People. 



237 



not always be that the Irishman is uncertain of the footing that 
he has in the land, until he lies down in the grave. It will not 
always be, as I heard once an old woman say, weeping in a church- 
yard, I had land, I had a place in this country, I had a house. 
Oh, God ! they took them all from me, and nothing remains 
but this grave." It will not always be thus. Justice, glory, 
power, are in the hands of God. Glory and power are the gifts 
of God to every nation. To some that glory and that power is 
given, even after they have forsaken the Lord their God ; but 
when it comes to dear old Ireland, it will be a reward for her 
faith, and for her love of Jesus Christ. 



THE CATHOLIC CHURCH THE SAL- 
VATION OF SOCIETY. 



[Delivered in the Church of St. Charles Borromeo, Brooklyn, in aid of the Hospital 
in charge of the Sisters of the Good Shepherd.] 

Y FRIENDS: The subject which, as you know, has 
been announced to you, and which I purpose to treat 
before you this evening, is the proposition that The 
CathoHc Church is the Salvation of Society." Per- 
haps there are some amongst you who think I am an un- 
wontedly courageous man to make so wild and so rash an 
assertion. And it must be acknowledged, indeed, that for the 
past eighteen hundred years that the Catholic Church has 
existed, society has always endeavored to get away from her 
grasp, and to live without her. People who admit the action of 
the Church, who allow it to influence their history, who let it 
influence their lives — if they rise to the height of their Christian 
elevation, if they conform themselves to the teachings of what 
is true, if they avail themselves of the graces of the Church — 
they are very often scoffed at, and called a priest-ridden and 
besotted people. Now-a-days, it is the fashion to look upon that 
man as the best of his class who has succeeded the most com- 
pletely in emancipating himself from every control of religion, 
or of the Catholic Church. In one sense, it is a great advantage 
to a man to have no religion — to shake off the influence of the 
Church. Such a man remains without a conscience, and without 
remorse. He saves himself from those moments of uneasiness 
and self-reproach that come to most men until they completely 
lose all reverence for God ; and the consequence is, that if he is 
a sinner, and in the way of sin, he enjoys it all the more ; and 




The Catholic Church the Salvation of Society. 



239 



he can make the more use of his time in every pathway of 
iniquity, if he has no obstacles of conscience or of religion to 
fetter him. So far, it is an advantage to be without religion. 
The robber, for instance, can rob more confidently if he can 
manage to forget that there is a God above him. The murderer 
can wash his hands more complacently, no matter how deeply 
he stains them, if there is no condemning record, no accusing 
voice, no ear to hear the voice of the blood that cries out against 
him for vengeance. He can pursue his misdeeds all the more 
at his own ease. And so, for this, amongst many other reasons, 
the world is constantly trying to emancipate itself from the 
dominion of God, and from the control of the Church — the mes- 
senger of the Saviour of the world. It would seem, therefore, 
at first sight, rather a hazardous thing to stand up in the face 
of the world, and in the face of society to-day — this boasted 
society — and say to them : You cannot live — you cannot get 
on without the Catholic Church ! She can do without you ! A 
coterie here ! A tribe there ! A nation elsewhere ! A few 
millions more or less, is, humanly speaking, of little account to 
her. She can do without you. But you, at your peril, must 
let her in, because you cannot do without her! " Now, this is 
the pith and substance of all that I intend to say to you here 
to-night ; but not to say it without proof ; for I do not 
ask any man here to accept one iota of what I say, on my mere 
assertion, until I have proved it. 

My proposition, then, is, that the Catholic Church is the sal- 
vation of society ; and it involves three distinct propositions, 
although it may appear to you to be only one : First, it involves 
the proposition that society requires to be saved ; then, it involves 
the proposition that the Catholic Church, so far, has been the sal- 
vation of the world in times past ; out of which grows the third 
proposition, namely, that the Church Catholic is necessary to the 
world in all future times ; and it is her destiny to be, in time to 
come, w^hat she has been in time past — the salvation of society. 
These are three distinct propositions. Let us consider the first; 
Society requires to be saved because it cannot save itself. 

The man who admires this century of ours, and who serenely 
glories in it — who calls it the Age of Progress " — the Age 
of Enlightenment ;" — who speaks of his own land — be it Ireland 
or America, or Italy or France — as a country of enlightenment, 



240 



TJic CatJwlic Church the 



and its people as an enlightened people — thi« man stands amazed 
when I say to him that this boasted society requires salvation 
Somebody or other must save it. For, consider what it has 
done. What has it produced without the saving influence' of 
the Catholic Church ? We may analyze society, as I intend to 
view it, from an intellectual stand-point. Then we shall see the 
society of learning — the society of art and of literature. Or we 
may view it from a moral stand-point — that is to say, in the 
government of the world, and how the wheels of society work 
in this boasted progress of ours — emancipated from the Cath- 
olic Church, as this society has been mainly for the last three 
hundred years ; in some countries more, in some countries less, 
in some countries entirely. Now, I ask you, what has this so- 
ciety produced, intellectually, morally, politically ? Intellectu- 
ally, it has produced a philosophy that asks us, at this hour of 
the day, to believe in ghosts. The last climax of the philo- 
sophy of this nineteenth century of ours is " Spiritualism," of 
which you have all heard. The philosopher of to-day, unlike 
even the philosopher of the Pagan times of old, does not direct 
his studies, nor the labors of his mind, to the investigation of 
the truth and of the development of the hidden secrets of 
nature — of the harmonies of the soul of man — of the wants of 
the spirit of man. To none of these does the philosopher of 
to-day direct his attention. But this man — this leader of mine 
in society — gets a lot of his friends around a table, and there 
they sit and listen until the spirits " begin to knock ; that is 
the pith and substance of his philosophy. Another man — one 
of another great school (and, indeed, these two schools may be 
said to have divided the philosophical empire of our age), — a 
man who claims to speak and to be represented by living voice in 
our churches and pulpits, says: Oh, man! son of the children 
of men — since thou hast received a commission to sound the 
Scriptures — to mend the ''Word of God," as it is called — be- 
lieve me when I tell you that our common ancestor was the 
ape — and that it was by the merest accident — the accident of 
progression, eating a certain kind of food, commingling with 
the comeliest of the monkey tribe, endeavoring, by degrees, to 
walk erect instead of crawling on our hands and feet — it was by 
the merest accident — a congeries of accidental circumstances — 
that we happen to be men." This is the philosophy of the 



Salvation of Society, 



241 



nineteenth century. This is the intellectual grandeur and " Pro- 
gress of the Age," that says : " I don't require salvation !" 

The moral progress of this society, which has emancipated 
itself from the Catholic Church — what is it ? It has produced 
in this, our society, sins, of which, as a priest and a man, I am 
ashamed to speak. It has produced in the city of New York 
the terrible insult to a crucified Lord — that a woman, pretend- 
ing to be modest, should have chosen Good Friday night to ad- 
vocate impurity under the name of free-love ! Just as the 
intellectual development of our society, emancipated from the 
Church, has arrived at the glorious discovery of Spiritualism," 
so the moral development of this age of ours has arrived at the 
deep depth of free-love. Oh, grand and holy nineteenth cen- 
tury, I hail thee ! Thou art the parent of divorce. A brave 
century, that ventured to destroy the bond that God Himself 
had made, and commanded no man should sunder. Thy mar- 
ried daughters must have recourse to the arts of the courtesan 
and the drugs of the murderer in order to preserve their charms, 
and so keep a slender and frail hold on the adulterous hearts of 
thy brave married sons. The old names of husband and wife 
are wiped out of thy enlightened vocabulary. They have per- 
ished ; they are designations of the past. Oh, thou base and 
filthy age of low desire and luxury, of dishonesty and Mormon- 
ism, it is well for thee that the holy Catholic Church, the spouse 
of Christ, the salt of the earth, is in the midst of thee, rebuking 
thee with fearless and unchanging voice, sweetening thy pol- 
luted atmosphere with the fragrance of her virtues, atoning for 
thy vices with fast, prayer, and sacrifice ; else, surely, thou 
Sodom of the centuries, the Lord would consume thee with the 
fire of his wrath ! 

What is the political spirit of society, and the perfection to 
which it has attained since it has been emancipated from the 
Church ? Why, it has produced the politician" of our day. 
It has produced the ruler who imagines that he is set up, 
throughout all the nations, only to grasp — ^justly if he can, un- 
justly if he has no other means — every privilege of power and 
of absolutism. This age of ours gives us statesmen who make 
secret treaties to rob their neighbors, kings who shed their peo- 
ple's blood for the mere whims of personal ambition, or else to 
carry out the schemes of a wily, dishonest diplomacy; robbcr- 

16 



242 



TJic Catholic Church the 



monarchs, at the head of robber-armies, plundering their honest 
and unoffending fellow- sovereigns ; millions of armed men 
watching each other because right and justice have ceased to be 
sufficient protection to men or nations ; the people oppressed 
and plundered to serve the purposes of the lustful ambition of 
men in power ; venality and corruption everywhere overflowing. 
It has produced in the people an unwillingness to obey even 
just laws. I need not tell you ; you have the evidence of your 
own senses ; you have records of the daily actions of the world 
laid before you every morning. This is the issue of the domi- 
nant spirit of society, when society emancipates itself from the 
Church, and, by so doing, endeavors to shake off God. Now we 
come to the great question : quis niedebitur ? Who shall touch 
society w^ith a scientific and healing hand ? What virtue can we 
infuse into it ? That must come, I assert, from God, and from 
Him alone, of whom the Scriptures say that He made the 
nations of the earth for health ;" that He has made our nature 
so that, even in its worst infirmity, it is capable of cure. He 
came and found it -in its worst infirmity ; society rotten to its 
heart's core ; and the interior rottenness — the obscurity of the 
intellect — the corruption of the heart — manifesting itself in the 
actions and sins of which St. Paul, the Apostle, says, Necno- 
minabitu}' in vobis' — that they must not be even mentioned 
among Christian men. Christ, the Son of God, because He 
was God — equal to the Father — girding Himself up to the 
mighty work of healing this society, came down from heaven 
and cured it, when no other hand but His could have touched 
it with healing ; when no other virtue or power save His could, 
at all, have given life to the dead world, purity to the corrupt 
world, light to the darkened intellect of man. From Him came 
life to the dead ; and that life was light to the darkened and 
strength to the weak, because He was God. 

Then the nations of Greece and Rome appeared in the strength 
of their power — proud in their mental culture — proud in the 
grandeur of their civilization — and contemptuously put away 
and despised the message of the divine faith which was sent to 
them ; and for three hundred long years persecuted the Church 
of God. This great instructress, who came to talk in a lan- 
guage that they knew not, and to teach them things that they 
never heard of — both the things of heaven and the things of 



Salvation of Society. 



243 



earth — this great instructress, for three hundred years, lay hid 
in the caves and catacombs of the earth, afraid to show her 
face ; for the whole world — all the power of Pagan Rome, the 
mistress of the world — was raised against her. There was blood 
upon her virgin face. There was blood upon her holy bosom — 
the blood of the innocent and of the pure ; and all the world 
knew of Christianity was the strong testimony which, from time 
to time, was given of it, by youth and maiden, in the arena of 
Rome, or in the amphitheatres of Antioch or of Corinth. Then, 
in punishment for their pride — as an act of vengeance upon 
them for their rejection of His gospel — the Almighty God 
resolved to break up their ancient civilization ; to sweep 
away their power ; to bring the hordes of barbarous nations 
from the north of Europe into the very heart of Rome, 
the centre of the world's empire, and to crush and de- 
stroy it with fire and sword, and utterly to break u.p all that 
society which Avas formed, of old, upon the literature and the 
philosophy of Greece and of Rome. Consequently, w^e behold, 
in the fifth century, all the ancient civilization completely de- 
stroyed, and the world reduced again almost to the chaos of 
barbarism from which the Pagans of old had raised it. Arts 
and sciences perished, when the Goth and Vandal, Visigoth, 
and Ostragoth, and Hun swept down like a swarm of locusts, 
over the old Roman Empire, and all the land subject to Roman 
sway. A man justly called the Scourge of God " led the 
Huns. Alaric was at the head of his Visigoths. He swept 
over Rome. He was asked to spare the city, out of respect to 
the civilization of the world and the tombs of the Apostles ! 
" I cannot withhold," exclaimed the Visigoth, " I cannot with- 
hold. I hear within me a mysterious voice which says,- 'Alaric I 
on ! on to Rome !' " And so he came and sacked the city, 
burned and destroyed its temples, and its palaces, and its libra- 
ries, and its glories of painting and sculpture — hurled them all 
into the dust ! And the desolation spread world-wide where- 
ever a vestige of ancient civilization was found, until, at the 
end of that fatal century, the Church of God found herself 
standing upon the ruins of a world that had passed away. 
Before her were the countless hordes of the savage children of 
the North, out of which rugged material it was her destiny and 
her office to form the society of modern times. Hard, indeed, 



244 



The CatJiolic Church the 



was the task which she undertook — not only to evangeHze them, 
to teach them the things of God, but also to teach them the 
beauties of human art and human science — to soften them with 
the genial influences and the tender appliances of learning ; to 
gain their hearts, and soften their souls, and mollify their man- 
ners, and refine them by every human appliance as well as by 
every Divine influence. For this task did she gather herself up. 
She, in that day, collected with a careful and with a venerating 
hand all that remained out of the ruin of ancient literature, of 
ancient poetry, of ancient history, in the languages of Greece 
and of Rome. She gathered them lovingly and carefully to her 
bosom. She laid them up in her sacred recesses — in her clois- 
ters. She applied, diligently, to the study of them, and to the 
diffusion of them, the minds of the holiest and best of her con- 
secrated children ; until, in a few years, all that the world had 
of refinement, of learning, of all that was refining and gentle, 
was all concentrated in the person of the lowly monk, 
who, full of the lore of Greece and Rome — full of ancient 
learning as well as of that of the time — an artist — a painter 
— a musician — a man of letters — covering all with the hu- 
mility of his profession, and hiding all in the cloister, yet 
treasured all up for the society that was to come after him, and 
for the honor and glory of God and of His Church. And so, 
by degrees, the Church was enabled to found schools — and 
then, colleges — and thence to form, gradually, universities — and 
to obtain for them and to insure unto them civic and municipal 
rights, as we shall see farther on. 

By degrees she founded the great mediaeval universities, 
gathering together all those who wished to learn, and sending 
forth from her cloisters, her Dominicans, her Franciscans, to 
teach philosophy and theology, whilst they illustrated the very 
highest art in the beauty of their paintings and the splendor 
which they threw around the Christian sciences. Universities 
were founded by her into Avhich she gathered the youth of vari- 
ous nations ; and then, sending them home, amongst their rude 
and rugged fellow-citizens, she spread gradually the flame of 
human knowledge, as well as the fire of Divine faith and sanc- 
tity ; and thus, for many a long centuiy, did the Church labor 
assiduously, lovingly, perseveringly, and so secured unto us 
whatever blessings of learning we possess to-day. She saved 



Salvation of Society, 



245 



society for the time, by drawing forth its rude, chaotic elements, 
and by her patient action in creating the Hght of knowledge 
where the darkness of ignorance was before — with patient and 
persevering effort bringing forth order out of disorder — until her 
influence over the world was like the word of God, when, upon 
the first day of creation, He made all things, and made them to 
exist where nothing but void and darkness were before. Nor 
can the history of by-gone times be disputed in this ; nor can 
any man allege that I am claiming too much for the Catholic 
Church when I say that she alone has preserved to us all the 
splendor of the Pagan literature of the ancient times — all the 
arts and sciences ; that she alone has founded the great schools 
and universities of Christendom, and of the civilized world — 
even in Protestant countries to-day ; nay, more, that nearly all 
the great scholars who shone as stars in the firmament of learning 
were her children — either consecrated to her in the priesthood, or 
attached to her by the strongest and the tenderest bonds of 
faith. Lest my word in this matter be considered exaggerated, 
let me read for you the testimony of a Protestant writer — to 
what I say. He says to us: 

If the Catholic Church had done nothing more than to preserve 
for us, by painful solicitude and unrewarded toil, the precepts and 
intellectual treasures of Greece and Rome, she would have been 
entitled to our everlasting gratitude. But her hierarchy did 
not merely preserve these treasures. They taught the modern 
world how to use them. We can never forget that at least nine 
out of every ten of all the great colleges and universities in 
Christendom were founded by monks or priests, bishops or 
archbishops. This is true of the most famous institutions in 
Protestant as well as in Catholic countries. And equally un- 
deniable is the fact, that the greatest discoveries in the sciences 
and in the arts (with the sole exception of Sir Isaac Newton) 
have been made either by Catholics or by those who were edu- 
cated by them. Our readers know that Copernicus, the author 
of our present system of astronomy, lived and died a poor 
parish priest, in an obscure village ; and Galileo lived and died 
a Catholic. The great Kepler, although a Protestant himself, 
always acknowledged that he received the most valuable part of 
his education from the monks and priests. It were easy to add 
to these illustrious names many equalh' renowned, in other 



246 



The Catholic Church the 



departments of science, as well as literature and the arts, in 
eluding those of statesmen, orators, historians, poets, and 
artists." 

This is the testimony of a Protestant writer, confirmed by the 
voice of history, to which I fearlessly appeal, when I lay down 
the proposition, that if intellectual darkness, if the barbarism 
of ignorance, be a disease in society, then history proves that 
the Catholic Church has been the salvation of society in the cure 
of that disease. I might go deeper here. I might show you 
here, in the beautiful reasoning of the great St. Thomas 
Aquinas, how, in the Catholic Church alone, is the solid basis 
of all intellectual knowledge. " For," observes the saint, "every 
science, no matter how different it may be from others — every 
science rests upon certain principles that are taken for granted 
— certain axioms that are accepted, without being proved. 
Now," he goes on to say, " the principle of acknowledged cer- 
tainty, of some kind or other, lies at the base and at the founda- 
tion of every science, and of every form of intellectual power." 
But, in the sciences and in the intellectual world, we find the 
same order, the same exquisite harmony, which, in the works of 
God, we find in the material and physical creation. The prin- 
ciple, therefore, of all the arts and sciences, each with its re- 
spective power, is, that all go up in regular order from the 
lowest form of art to the highest of human sciences — astronomy 
— until they touch divine theology, which teaches of God and 
of the things of God. Upon the certainty of that First Science 
depends the very idea of " certainty," upon which every other 
science is based. And, therefore, the key-note of all knowledge 
is found in the science of divine theology, which teaches of God. 
Now, outside of the Catholic Church there is no theology — as a 
science ; because science involves certain knowledge, and there 
is no certain knowledge of divine things outside the Catholic 
Church. There is no certain knowledge of divine things where 
truth is said to consist in the inquiry after truth, as in Protest- 
antism, where religion is reduced from the principle of immu- 
table faith, to the mere result of reasoning, amounting to a 
strong opinion. There is no certainty, therefore, outside of that 
Church that speaks of God in the very language of God ; that 
gives a message sent from the very lips of God ; that puts that 
message into the God-like form of immutable dogma before the 



Salvation of Society, 



24/ 



minds of His children, and so starts them in the pursuit of all 
human knowledge, with the certain light of divinely-revealed 
truth, and with the principle of certainty deeply seated in their 
minds. 

Now, we pass from the intellectual view of society to the 
moral view of it. In order to understand the action of the 
Church here, as the sole salvation of society, I must ask you 
to consider the dangers which threaten society in its moral 
aspect. These dangers are the following : First of all, the lib- 
ertinism, the instability, the inconstancy, and the impurity of 
man. Secondly, the absence of the element of holiness and 
sanctity in the education of childhood. Thirdly, the sense of 
irresponsibility, or a kind of reckless personal liberty which not 
only passes us over from under the control of law, but cuts off 
our communication with God, and makes us forget that we are 
responsible to God for every action of our lives ; and so, gradu- 
ally, brings a man to believe that liberty and freedom mean 
irresponsible licentiousness and impurity. These I hold to be 
the three great evils that threaten society. The inconstancy of 
man — for man is fickle in his friendship, is unstable in his love, 
is inconstant in his affections, subject to a thousand passing 
sensations — his soul laid open to appeals from every sense — to 
the ebb and flow of every pulse and every passion, answering 
with quick response every impression of eye and ear, and liable 
to change its estimate and judgment by the ever-varying evi- 
dence of the senses. Need I tell you, my friends — what your 
own heart has so often told you — how inconstant we are ? how 
the thing that captivates us to-day, we w^ill look coldly upon to- 
morrow, and the next day, perhaps, with eyes of disgust ? Need 
I tell you how fickle is that love, that friendship of the human 
heart, against which, and its inconstancy, the Holy Ghost seems 
to warn us? Put not thy trust in princes, nor in the children 
of men, in whom there is no salvation." To guard against this 
inconstancy it is necessary to call in divine grace and help from 
heaven. For it is a question of confirming the heart of man in 
the steadiness, in the unchangeableness, and in the purit\- of the 
love that is^ to last all his life long. Therefore it is that the 
Catholic Church sanctifies the solemn contract by which man 
promises to his fellow-creature that he will love her, that he \\\\\ 
never allow that love for her to grow cold in his bosom, that lie 



248 



TJic Catholic Church the 



v.'ill never allow even a thought of any other love than hers to 
cross his imagination or enter into his soul, that he will love her 
in the days of her old age as he loves her to-day, in the fresh- 
ness of her beauty, as she stands by his side before the altar of 
God, and puts her virgin hand into his. And she swears to him 
a corresponding love. But, ah ! who can assure to her that the 
heart which promises to be hers to-day will be true to its prom- 
ise ? who can insure to her that love, ever inconstant in its own 
nature, and acted upon by a thousand influences, calculated 
first to alienate, then to destroy it ? How can she have the 
courage to believe that the word that passed from that man's 
lips, at that altar, shall never be regretted — never be repealed ? 
I answer, the Catholic Church comes in and calls down a special 
sacramental grace from heaven ; lets in the very blood of the 
Saviour, in its sacramental form, to touch these two hearts, and, 
by purifying them, to elevate their affection into something 
more than gross love of sense, and to shed upon those two 
hearts, thus united, the rays of divine grace, to tinge their lives 
somewhat with the light of that ineffable love that binds the 
Lord to His Church. And so, in that sacrament of matrimony, 
the Church provides a divine remedy for the inconstancy of the 
heart of man ; and she also provides a sanctifying influence 
which, lying at the very fountain-head, and source, and spring 
of our nature, sanctifies the whole stream of society that flows 
from the sacramental and sanctifying love of Christian marriage. 
Do you not know that this society, in separating itself from the 
Church, has literally destroyed itself? If Protestantism, or 
Unitarianism, or any other form of error did nothing else than 
simply to remove from the sacrament of matrimony its sacra- 
mental character — its sanctifying grace — by that very act, that 
error of religious unbelief, it destroys society. The man who 
destroys, in the least degree, the firmness of the bond that can 
never be broken, because it is bound by the hand of God, and 
sealed with the sacramental seal — the man that touches that 
bond — the man that takes from that sacrament one single iota 
of its grace, makes himself thereby the enemy of society, and 
pollutes the very fountain-head from which the stream of our 
life comes. When the prophet of old came into the city of 
Jericho, they showed him the stream that ran by the city walls; 
and they said to him : Behold, the situation of this city is very 



Salvation of Society. 



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good, as thou, my lord, seest ; but the waters are very bad and 
the ground barren." He did not attempt to heal the stream as 
it flowed thereby ; but he said, Bring me a new vessel and put 
salt into it ; and when they had brought it, he went to the spring 
of the waters and cast the salt into it and said : Thus saith the 
Lord, I have healed these waters, and there shall be no more in 
them death or bitterness ; and the waters were healed unto this 
day." Thus he purified the fountain-head of the spring of the 
waters of Jericho. Such is the sacrament of marriage to human 
society. The future of the world — the moral future of mankind 
— of the rising generations, all depend upon the purity and the 
sanctity of the matrimonial tie. There does the Church of God 
throw, as it were, the sacramental salt of divine grace into the 
fountain-head of our nature, and so sanctifies the humanity that 
springs from its source. 

The next great moral influence of society which requires the 
Church's action, is education. The child," as you know, is 
father to the man ;" and what the child is to-day, the man will 
be. in twenty or thirty years' time. Now, the young soul of the 
child is like the earth in the spring season. Childhood is the 
time of sowing and of planting. Whatever is put into that 
young heart in the early days of childhood, will bring up, in the 
summer of manhood, and in the autumn of old age, its crop, 
either of good or of evil. And, therefore, it is the most impor- 
tant time of life. The future of the world depends upon the 
sanctity of education. Now, in order that education may be 
bad, it is not necessary, my friends, to teach the child anything 
bad. In order to make education bad, it is quite enough to 
neglect the element of sanctity and of religion. It is quite 
enough to neglect the religious portion of the education. By 
that very defect the education becomes bad. And why? 'Be- 
cause, such is our nature such — the infirmity of our fallen state — 
such is the atmosphere of the scenes in which we live in this 
world — such the power of the infernal agencies that are busily 
at work for our destruction, that, educate the child as carefully 
as you may, surround him with the holiest influences, fill him 
with the choicest graces, you still run great risks that, gome day 
or other, the serpent of sin will gain an entrance into that young 
soul, in spite of you. How much more if that young heart be 
not replenished with divine grace ! How much more if that 



The Catholic Church the 



young soul be not fenced round by a thousand appliances, and 
a thousand defences against its enemies ! And thus do we see 
that the principle of bad education is established the moment 
the strong religious element is removed. Hence it is, that out 
of the sanctity of marriage springs the sanctity of education in 
the Catholic Church. And why? Because the Church of God 
proclaims that the marriage-bond no man can dissolve ; that 
that marriage-bond, so long as death does not come in to sepa- 
rate the man and wife — that that marriage-bond is the one con- 
tract which no power on this earth can break. Consequently, 
the Catholic woman married to the Catholic man knows that the 
moment their lips mutually pronounce their marriage-vows, her 
position is defined and established for evermore ; that no one 
can put her down from the holy eminence of wife or of mother, 
and that the throne which she occupies in the household, she 
never can live to see occupied by another ; that her children are 
assured to her ; and that she is left in her undisputed empire 
and control over them. She knows that — no matter how the 
world may prosper or otherwise with her — that she is sure, at 
least, of her position as a wife, and of her claims to her husband's 
love, and of the allegiance of his worship. She knows that even 
though she may have wedded him in the days of poverty, and 
that should he rise to some great and successful position — even 
if he became an emperor — she must rise with him, and that he 
can never discard her ; and, consequently, she feels that her 
children are her own forever. Now, the element of sanctity in 
the family, even when the husband is a good man — even when 
he is a sacrament-going man, as every Catholic man ought to 
be — yet the element of sanctity in the family, and for the family, 
lies with the woman. It is the privilege of the mother. She 
has' the children under her eye and under her care the livelong 
day. She has the formation of them — of their character — their 
first sentiments, thoughts, and works, either for good or evil. 
The seed to be planted — the formation of the soul — is in the 
mother's hands ; and therefore it is that the character of the 
child mainly depends on the formation which the mother gives 
it. The .father is engaged in his office, in keeping his business, 
or at his work, all the day long. His example, whether for good 
or bad, is not constantly before -the eyes — the observant eyes — 
of the child, as is the example of the mother. And so it is, my 



Salvation of Society. 



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friends, that all depends upon the mother ; and it is of vital 
importance that that mother should blend in herself all that is 
pure, holy, tender, and loving, and that she be assured of the 
sanctity of her position, of which the Church assures her by the 
indissoluble nature of the marriage-tie. 

Again, the Church of God follows the child into the school, 
and she puts before the young eye, even before reason has 
opened — she puts before the young sense the sight of things 
that will familiarize the mind of the child with heaven and with 
heavenly thoughts. She goes before the world, anticipates 
reason, and tries to get the start of that ''mystery of inquiry" 
w^hich, sooner or later, lying in the world, shall be revealed to 
the eyes and the soul of this young child. Hence it is that in 
her system of education she endeavors to mix up sacramental 
graces, lessons of good, pictures of divine things, holy statues, 
little prayers, singing of hymns — all these religious appliances — 
and endeavors to mingle them all constantly and largely with 
every element of human education, that the heart may be 
formed as well as the mind, and that the will may be strength- 
ened as well as the intellect and the soul of man. If, then, the 
evil of a bad education be one of the evils of society, I hold 
that the Church of God, in her scheme and plan of education, 
proves that she is the salvation of society by touching that evil 
with a healing hand. 

The next great evil affecting the morals of society is the sense 
of irresponsibility. A man outside of the Catholic Church is 
never expected to call himself to account for his actions. If he 
speaks evil words, if he thinks evil thoughts, if he does wrong 
things, the most that he aspires to is a momentary thought of 
God. Perhaps he forms a kind of resolution not to do these 
things any more. But there is no excruciating self-examination ; 
there is no humiliating confession ; there is no care or thought 
upon motives of sorrow ; there is no painstaking to acquire a 
firm resolution ; there are none of the restraints against a return 
to sin with which the sacramental agencies of the Catholic 
Church, especially through the sacrament of penance, have 
made us all familiar. The Catholic man feels that the eye of 
God is upon him. He is told that, every time the Catholic 
Church warns him to prepare for confession. He is told that, 
every time his eyes, wandering through the church, rest upon 



252 



Tlic CatJiolic CJiiirch the 



the confessional. He is told that, every time he sees the priest 
standing there, with his stole on, and the penitent going in 
with tearful eyes, and coming forth with eyes beaming with joy 
and with the delight of forgiveness. He is told this in a thousand 
ways ; and it is brought home to him by the precepts and sacra- 
ments of the Church at stated times in the year. The conse- 
quence is, that he is made to believe that he is responsible to 
Almighty God ; and therefore this obligation, creating a sense 
of responsibility, rouses and excites this watchfulness of his 
own conscience. The man who feels that the eye of God is 
upon him will also feel that the eye of his own conscience is 
upon him. For watchfulness begets watchfulness. If the 
master is looking on whilst a servant is doing anything, the 
servant will endeavor to do it well, and he will keep his eye 
upon the master 'whilst the master is present. So a soldier, 
when he is ordered to charge, turns his look upon his superior 
officer, whilst he dashes into the midst of the foe. And so it is 
with us. Conscience is created, conscience is fostered and cher- 
ished in the soul by a sense of responsibility which Almighty 
God gives us through the Church and through her sacraments. 
What follows from this ? It follows that the Catholic man, 
although in conscious freedom, is conscious that he must always 
exercise that freedom under the eye of God and under the 
dominion of His law ; so that in him, even although he be a 
sinner for a time, the sense of freedom never degenerates into 
positive recklessness or license. 

Finally, in the political view of society, the dangers that 
threaten the world from this aspect, are, first of all, absolutism, 
and injustice, and oppression in rulers ; and, secondly, a spirit 
of rebellion, even against just and established government, 
amongst the governed. For the well-ordering of society lies 
in this : that he who governs respects those whom he governs ; 
and that those who are governed by him recognize in him only 
the authority that comes to him from God. I say, frojn God. I 
do not wish here, or now, to enter into the question as to the 
source of power, and how far the popular element may or may 
not be that source ; but I do say, that where the power exists, 
even where the ruler is chosen by the people, that he exercises 
that power then as an official of the Almighty God, to whom 
belongs the government of the whole system which He has 



Salvation of Society. 



253 



created. If that ruler abuses his power — abuses it excessively ; 
if he despises those whom he governs; if he has not respect for 
their rights, their privileges, and their consciences, then the 
balance of power is lost, and the great evil of political society is 
inaugurated. If, on the other hand, the people, fickle and in- 
constant, do not recognize any sacredness at all in their ruler , 
if they do not recognize the principle of obedience to law as a 
divine principle, as a necessary principle, without which the 
world cannot live ; if they think that amongst the rights of man — 
of individual man — is the right to rise in rebellion against authority 
and law, the second great evil of political society is developed, 
and the whole machinery of the world's government is broken 
to pieces. What is necessary to remedy this ? A power — mark 
my words — a power recognized to be greater than that of the 
people or than that of the people's government. A power, 
wielded not only over the subject, but over the monarch. A 
power, appealing with equal force and equal authority to him 
who is upon the throne, to him who is at the head of armies and 
empires, and to the meanest, and the poorest, and the lowest of 
his subjects. What power has that been in history? Lookback 
for eighteen hundred years. What power is it that has been 
exercised over baron and chieftain, king and ruler, no matter 
how dark the times — no matter how convulsed society was — no 
matter how confused every element of government was — no mat- 
ter how rude and barbarous the manners of men — how willing 
they were to assert themselves in the fullness of their pride and 
savage power in field and in council ? What power was it that 
was acknowledged supreme by them, during twelve hundred 
years, from the close of the Roman persecutions up till the out- 
break of Protestantism ? What power was it that told the mon- 
archs of the middle ages, that, if they imposed an oppressive or 
unjust tax upon the people, they were excommunicated ? 
What power was it that arose to tell Philip Augustus of France, 
in all the lust of his greatness and his undisputed sway, that if 
he did not respect the rights of his one wife, and adhere to her 
chastely, he would be excommunicated by the Church, and 
abandoned by his people ? What power was it that came to the 
voluptuous tyrant, seated on the Tudor's throne in England, 
and told him that, unless he were faithful to the poor persecuted 
woman, Catherine of Arragon, his lawful wife, he would be cut 



254 



TJie Catholic Church the 



off as a rotten branch, and cast — by the sentence of the Church 
— into hell-fire ? What power was it that made the strongest 
and most tyrannical of these rude mediaeval chieftains, kings, 
and emperors, tremble before it? Ah, it was the power of the 
Vatican ! It was the voice of the Church, upholding the rights 
of the people ; sheltering them with its strong arm, proclaiming 
that no injustice should be done to them : that the rights of 
the poorest man in the community were as sacred as the rights 
of him who sat upon the throne ; and, therefore, that she would 
not stand by and see the people oppressed. An ungrateful 
world is this of ours, to-day, that forgets that the Catholic 
Church was the power that inaugurated, established, and ob- 
tained all those civic and municipal rights, all those rights re- 
specting communities, which have formed the basis of what we 
call our modern civilization ! Ungrateful age ! that reflects not, 
or chooses to forget, that the greatest freedom the people ever 
enjoyed in this world, they enjoyed so long as they were under 
the aegis of the Church's protection ; that never were the Ital- 
ians so free as they were in the mediaeval Republics of Genoa, 
Pisa, Lucca, and Florence. That never Avere the Spaniards so 
free as when their Cortes, as the ruling voice of the nation, was 
heard resounding in the ears of their monarchs, and respected by 
them. That never were the English so free as when a saint was 
their ruler, or when an Archbishop of Canterbury, with the 
knights of the realm closed around him, told a tyrant they would 
abandon him and depose him, unless he gave to the people that 
charter which is the foundation of the most glorious constitu- 
tion in the world. And thus, I answer, the Church maintained 
the rights of the people, whenever those rights were unjustly in- 
vaded by those who were in power. But, to the people, in their 
turn, this Church has always preached patience, docility, obe- 
dience to law, legitimate redress, when redress was required. 
She has always endeavored to calm their spirits, and to keep 
them back, even under great and sore oppression, from the 
remedy which the world's history tells us has always been 
worse than the disease which it has attempted to cure — viz., the 
remedy of rebellion and revolution. Such is the history of the 
Church's past. 

Have I not said with truth, that the Church is the salvation 
of society ; that she formed society ; that she created what we 



Salvation of Society. 



255 



call the society of our day; and that if it had not been for lier, 
a large percentage of all that forms the literature of our time 
would not now be in existence? The most powerful restraints, 
the most purifying influences that have operated upon society 
for so many centuries, would not have sent' down their blessings 
to us — blessings that have been inherited, even by those who 
understood them so little, that their very first act in separating 
from the Church was to lay the axe at the very root of society, 
by depriving the sacrament of matrimony of its sacramental and 
indispensably necessary force. In like manner have I not proved 
that, if there be a vestige of freedom, with the proper assertion 
of right, in the world to-day, it can be traced distinctly to the 
generating and forming action of the Catholic Church during 
those ages of faith, when the world permitted itself to be 
moulded and fashioned by her hands ? And, as she was in the 
past, so must she be in the future. Shut your eyes to her 
truths — every principle of human science will feel the shock ; 
and the science of sciences will feel it first — the science of the 
knowledge of God, and of the things which He has given us. 
What is the truth ? Is it not a mere matter of fact, known by 
personal observation to many amongst us, that the Protestant 
idea of sin involves infidelity — that is to say, a denial of the 
divinity of Christ, of the inspiration of the Scriptures,* and of 
the existence of God ? What is the Protestant idea of the sin- 
ner? We have it, for instance, in their own description. There 
is, for instance, the account of the Elder's deathbed. His son 
was a sinner. He comes to the father's bedside. He is broken 
with grief, seeing that his father is dying before his eyes. The 
father seizes the opportunity to remind the erring son. Re- 
member that Christ died for our sins, and that Christ was the 
Son of God. He begins then to teach what a Catholic would 
consider the very first elements of the catechism. But to him 
they were the conclusions of a long life of study, and he has 
arrived now, at the end of his days, at the very point at which 
the little Catholic child starts when he is seven years of age. Now, 
in the Catholic Church, these things, which are the result of 
careful inquiry, hard study, the conclusions of years, perhaps, 
being admitted as first principles — the time which is lost by the 
Protestant in arriving at these principles, is employed by the 
Catholic in applying them to the conduct and the actions of his 



256 



The Catholic CJuircJi the 



dail}^ life — in avoiding this danger or that, repenting of this sin 
or that, praying against this evil or that — and so on. Shut your 
eyes to the truths of Catholic teaching, and the divine Scriptures 
themselves, on which you fancy, perhaps, that you are building 
up your religion, are shaken from their pedestal of a sure defini- 
tion, and nothing remains but her reassuring power — even to 
the inspiration of God's written word. Is not this true ? Where, 
during the fifteen hundred years that preceded Protestantism — 
where do we read of the inspiration of the Scriptures being 
called in question? Where do we read of any theologian omit- 
ting this phrase, leaving out that sentence, because it did 
not tally with his particular views ? He knew that he 
might as well seek to tie up the hands of God as to 
change one iota or syllable of God's revealed truth. But 
what do we see during the last three hundred years ? Luther 
began by rejecting the Epistle of St. James, calling it An epistle 
of straw," because there were certain doctrines there that did 
not suit him. From his time, every Protestant theologian has 
found fault with this passage or that of Scripture, as if it was a 
thing that could be changed and turned and forced and shaped 
to answer this purpose or that ; as if the word of God could be 
made to veer about, north, east, south, and west — according to 
human wishes ; until at length, in our own day, they have un- 
dertaken a new version of the Scriptures altogether ; and this 
is quietly going on in one great section of the Church of Eng- 
land, whilst another great section of the Church of England 
disputes its authority altogether, and tells you that the doc- 
trinal part of it is only a rule to guide, and that the historical 
part of it is nothing more than a myth, like the history of the 
ancient Paganism of Greece and of Rome ! They discard the 
Church's action upon the morality of society ; tell her that 
they do not believe her when she says, "Accursed is the man or 
woman that puts a divorce into his or her partner's hand ;" tell 
her that they do not believe her when she says, " No matter 
what the conduct of either party is, I cannot break the bond 
that God has made — no matter what may be the difference of 
disposition — no matter what the weariness that springs from the 
union ; I cannot dissolve it. I cannot alter it." If you dissolve 
it, I ask you in all earnestness to what you reduce yourselves ? 
To what does the married woman reduce herself? She becomes 



Salvation of Society. 



257 



■ — (I blush to say it)— she becomes a creature living under the 
sufferance and under the caprices of her husband. You know 
how easy it is to trump up an accusation ! You have but tc 
defame that which is so delicate and so tender as a woman's 
name ; a gentle and a tender and a pure woman's good name is 
tainted and destroyed by a breath. No matter how unfounded 
the calumny or the slander, how easy it is first to defame and 
then to destroy it ! At the time when the Protestant Church 
was called upon by the people in England to admit the lawful- 
ness of divorce, the Catholic Church raised up her voice in de- 
fence of truth, and warned England that she was going into a 
deeper abyss — warned the people that they were going to de- 
stroy whatever sanctity of society remained amongst them — 
warned them that there was an anathema upon the measure — 
upon those who proposed it — upon those who aided it. Is it 
not strange that the womanhood of the world does not fly to 
the Catholic Church for protection of their honor and dignity? 
Would it not be much better for those sturdy females who are 
looking for woman's rights, claiming the suffrage, and going 
about the co.untry lecturing, to turn their attention to the infa- 
mous law of divorce, and if they will be agitators, to agitate 
for its abolition ? 

Such is the Church's action on the morale of society. Tell 
her to shut up her confessionals ; tell her that her priests, 
sitting in those tribunals, are blasphemous usurpers of a power 
that God has never given to man. What follows from this ? 
Oh, my friends, do you think that you, or that any of you would 
be better men if you were absolved to-morrow from all obliga- 
tion of ever going to confession again ? Do you think you 
would draw nearer to God? Would we look more sharply after 
ourselves ? Do you not think that even those very human 
agencies — the humiliation, the painstaking of preparation, the 
violent effort to get out whatever we must confess — do you not 
think all these things are a great restraint upon a man. and that 
they help to keep him from sinning, independent altogether of 
the higher argument of an oft^ended God — of the crucified 
Lord bleeding again at the sight of our sins. Most assuredly 
they are. Most assuredly that man will endeavor to serve God 
with greater purity, with greater carefulness — will endeavor to 
remember the precept of the Saviour: ''You must watch and. 



258 



TJie Catholic Church the 



pray that you may not enter into temptation " — who is called 
upon from time to time to sweep the chambers of his own 
soul, to wash and purify every corner of his own heart, to ana- 
lyze his motives, call himself to account, even for hi^ thoughts 
and words — examine his relations in regard to honesty, in re- 
gard to charity with his neighbor — examine himself how he 
fulfils his duties as a father, or as a husband, as the case may 
be. The man who is obliged to do this, is more likely to serve 
God in purity and watchfulness than the man who never, from 
the cradle to the grave, is obliged to ask himself, How do I 
stand with God ?" Remove this action of the Church upon the 
good conduct of society, and then you will have, indeed, the 
work which was accomplished, and which is reaping its fulfil- 
ment to-day — the work of the so-called great Reformer, Martin 
Luther, who has brought it to this pass, that the world itself is 
groaning under the weight of its own iniquity ; and society 
rises up and exclaims that its very heart within it is rotted by 
social evil. 

Disturb the action of the Church upon political society, and 
what guarantee have you for the future ? You may see from 
the past what is to be in the future ; for, when Luther broached 
his so-called Reformation," the principle upon which he went 
was that the Catholic Church had no business to be an univer- 
sally Catholic body ; that she should break herself up into na- 
tional churches — the Church of Germany, the Church of Eng- 
land, the Church of France, the Church of America, and so on. 
And, in fact, Protestantism to this day in England is called the 
Church of England. The necessary consequence of this was, 
that the head of the State became also the head of the Church ; 
the essential Catholic bond of the Church, which is com- 
munion with the pope, her head, being broken and dissolved. 
The two powers were concentrated in him — one as Gov- 
ernor — head of the State, the other as Ruler and head of 
the national Church. He was to become King over the con- 
sciences of the people, as well as Ruler of their external public 
actions. He was to make laws for the soul as well as for the 
body. He was to tell them what they were to believe and how 
they were to pray, as well as to tell them their duties as citi- 
zens. He was to lead them to heaven ! The man who led his 
armies in the battle-field was to persuade his people that the 



Salvatio7i of Society. 



25Q 



way to heaven lay through rapine and through blood ! But so 
it was. And, strange to say, in every nation in Europe that 
accepted Protestantism, the monarch became a tyrant at once. 
The greatest tyrant that ever governed England was the man 
who introduced Protestantism. So long as Henry VIII. 
w^as a Catholic — although he was a man of terrible passions — 
still, the Church, reminding him of his soul, bringing him occa- 
sionally to the confessional, trying to shake him out of his iniqui- 
ties — had some control over him ; and he conquered his pas- 
sions, and kept himself honorable and pure. The moment that 
this man cast off his allegiance to the Church — the very day he 
proclaimed that he was emancipated from the pope, and did not 
believe in the pope or acknowledge him any more — that very 
day he turns to Anne Boleyn, takes and proclaims her his wife 
— Catharine, his rightful wife, still living ; and in a few days, 
when his heart grew tired of Anne, and his eyes were attracted 
by some other beauty, he sent Anne to the block, and had her 
head cut off — and he took another lady in her place ; and, in a 
short time, he cut off her head, also. And so, Gustavus Vasa, 
of Sweden, when he became a Protestant, at once assumed and 
became the head of an absolute monarchy. The very kings of 
the Catholic countries imitated their Protestant brethren in this 
respect, for we find the Catholic monarchs of Spain cutting off 
the ancient privileges of the people in the Cortes, saying: I 
am the State, and every man must obey!" It is quite natural. 
The more power you give into a man's hands the more absolute 
he becomes. The more you concentrate in him the spiritual as 
well as the temporal power, the more audaciously will he exer- 
cise both temporal and spiritual power, and the more likely is it 
that you are building up in that man a tyrant — and a merciless 
tyrant — to oppress you. From the day that society emancipat- 
ed itself by Protestantism from the action of the Church, revo- 
lution, rebellion, uprising against authority became the order of 
the day ; until at length the world is overrun with secret so- 
cieties, which swear eternal enmity to the altar and to the throne. 

And so, my dear friends, we see that we cannot move with- 
out the Church of God — that nations may go on for a time, 
and may be upheld by material prosperity ; but without a surer 
basis they will certainly be overthrown. The moments are 
coming, and coming rapidly, when all the society of this world 



260 The Catholic Church the Salvation of Society. 

that wishes to be saved, will have to cry out with a mighty voice 
to the Catholic Church. Persecuted, despised, to-day, she will 
yet come to us with her light of truth — with her sanctifying in- 
fluences — with her glorious dominion over king and subject, to 
save them from the ruin which they have brought upon their 
own heads. That will be a day of grace for man. It will be 
the day of the world's necessity. And when that day comes — 
and I behold it now in my mental vision, this uprising of the 
whole world in the hands of the Church — it will bring peace, 
security, holiness, and joy to society. I see thee, O glorious 
spouse of Christ ! O mother Church, I see thee seated once 
more, in the councils of the nations, guiding them with a di- 
vinely infused light — animating them with thy spirit of justice. 
I see thee, O mother, as of old I saw upon the seven hills a glori- 
ous city arise out of the ruins of the Goth and Visigoth and Van- 
dal ; so out of the men of this day — relapsing into chaos through 
neglect of thee— do I behold thee forming the glorious city 
that shall be ; a society in which men shall be loyal and brave, 
truthful, pure, and holy ; a city in which the people shall grow 
up formed by thee for God ; a city in which all men, governors 
and governed, will admit the supremacy of law, the sanctity of 
principle, the omnipotence of justice ! And, O, Mother, in the 
day when that retribution comes — in that day of the world's 
necessity— the triple crown shall shine again upon the brows of 
thy chief, Peter's successor, and the Vicar of Christ ; the triple 
crown, the most ancient and the holiest in the world ; and the 
Prince of Peace will extend his sceptre over the nations ; and 
every man will rejoice as in a new life ! 



THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. 



[Sermon delivered May 3d, in the Church of St. Vincent Ferrer.] 
" Thou art all fair, O my beloved, and there is no spot or slightest stain in thee." 

HESE words are found in the Canticles of Solomon, 
and the holy Catholic Church applies them to the 
soul and body of the Blessed Virgin Mary. In the 
Scriptures the king addresses his spouse by these 
words. The king represents no other than the Almighty God, 
and surely, if among all the daughters of men, we ask ourselves, 
and who was the spouse of the Almighty Got! ? we must imme- 
diately answer the Virgin Mother, who brought forth the eternal 
God, made man. Wherever, therefore, the Scriptures and in- 
spired writings of the old law speak words of love, and denote 
attributes belonging to a spouse, these are directly applicable 
to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Now, among the many gifts and 
graces which the prophet beheld in her, and upon which he con- 
gratulates her, are these : he tells us that he saw her at the 
king's right hand in golden garb, surrounded with variety; that 
everything of beauty and loveliness was upon her; but, in ad- 
dition to this, he tells us that a vision of such perfect purity, 
such perfect immaculateness rose before his eyes, that, filled 
with the Holy Ghost and the joy of God, he exclaimed, " Thou 
art fair, O my beloved, and there is no spot or slightest stain in 
thee." 

Behold, then, dearly beloved, the first great grace that the 
Virgin of Virgins received at the first moment of her existence. 
When we reflect upon the relationship which the incarnation of 
our divine Lord established between the Blessed Virgin Mary and 
the Almighty God — namely, that she should be the ^lothcr of 




262 



The Immaculate Conception. 



God, that He, taking his sacred humanity from her, should be 
united to her so as to be the flesh of her flesh and the bone of 
her bone — that He was to be altogether hers, as the child belongs 
to the mother at birth — and in this new relation of His humanity 
He was not to suffer the slightest diminution of His own infinite 
sanctity which belonged to Him as God — when we reflect upon 
all this, and see the awful proximity in which a creature is 
brought to Almighty God in this mystery of man's redemption, 
the very first thought that strikes the mind is, I know God must 
have forfeited something of His holiness, or else the creature 
that He selected for His mother must have been all pure, all 
holy, and so fit to be the Mother of God — either God must have 
forfeited some of His holiness coming to one personally a sinner, 
taking tainted blood, the nature that belonged to us that He 
took in her, that which was a broken, a disfigured, and de- 
formed nature, tainted with sin, and steeped, if you will, in- sin 
— for what, after all, is the record of man's history but a record 
of sin — or Mar>^ must have been sinless. But if the Almighty 
God took that nature from one who bore in her own blood the 
personal taint of the universal sin, we must conclude that the 
Almighty God thereby compromised His own infinite holiness — 
nay, that He did more than this, that He contradicted His own 
word, for the word of God is, that nothing defiled, nothing 
tainted, shall come near to Almighty God. The soul that de- 
parts from this world with the slightest taint of sin upon it must 
pay to the last farthing, and purge itself unto perfect purity be- 
fore it can catch a glimpse of God in heaven. And if this 
immaculateness and purity be necessary in order even to behold 
God, Oh, think of the purity, then, of the immaculateness, that 
must have been necessary in order not only to behold God, but 
to take Him into her bosom, to give Him the very human life 
that He lived, to give Him the very nature that He took, and 
united to Himself in the unity of His own divine person — to 
give Him that humanity that He literally made Himself. What 
infinite purity, what perfect innocence and immaculateness did 
these involve, unless, indeed, we are willing to conclude that 
the Almighty God came into personal contact with the sinner, 
and so allowed something not undefiled to come into contact 
with Him. But no ; the mystery which brought so much suffer- 
ing, so much humiliation, so much sadness and sorrow to the 



The Immaculate Conception, 



263 



eternai Son of God, brought Him no compromise with sin, 
brought Him no defilement of His own infinite sanctity, not in 
the least lowering Him from that standard of infinite holiness 
which is His essence and nature as God. And, therefore, it was 
necessary that, coming to redeem a sinful race, the individual of 
that race from whom He took His most sacred humanity, should 
be perfectly pure and immaculate. More than this, we know that 
the Almighty God never yet called any creature to any dignity or 
to any office without bestowing upon that creature graces com- 
mensurate with the greatness, the magnificence, and the duties 
which he imposed upon him. Hence it is that we find when he 
was about to create the Prophet Jeremiah, when he was about 
to make him a prophet, to put his divine inspiration into his 
mind, when he was about to send this man to announce his 
vengeance to the people, the Scriptures expressly tell us that he 
sanctified that man in his mother's womb before he was born, 
and that the infant prophet came into this world without the 
slightest taint of sin. Hear the words of Scripture : " The 
word of the Lord came to me, saying, Before I formed thee in 
thy mother's womb I knew thee ; and before thou camest forth 
out of the womb I sanctified thee and made thee a prophet unto 
the nations." So, in like manner, when the Almighty God created 
a man who was to arrive at the highest dignity of the prophets 
— namely, not only to proclaim the coming of God, but to 
point out God amongst men in the person of Jesus Christ — 
John the Baptist, created for this high and holy purpose — 
created to be amongst men w^hat Gabriel the archangel was to 
Mary — namely, the revealer of the divine counsels, God sanc- 
tified him in his mother's womb, and John the Baptist was born 
without sin. If the Almighty God sanctifies a man before his 
birth, anticipates the sacramental regeneration of circumcision, 
sanctifies him before the sacrament, as in the case of Jeremiah 
and John the Baptist, simply because that man was called to 
the office of proclaiming the word of God, Oh, dearly beloved, 
surely there must have been some distinctive sanctity, some 
especial grace in reserve for Mary, as much higher than the 
grace of the prophet or of the prevision of the Baptist, as 
Mary's office transcends theirs. Jeremiah had but to announce 
the word of God revealed to him. Mary it was who was to 
bring forth the word of God incarnate in her immaculate womb. 



264 



The Ivtviaculate Cojiception. 



John the Baptist was to point Him out and say, Behold the 
Lamb of God." Mary was to hold Him in her arms and say to 
the w^orld, This Lamb of God, who is to save all mankind, is 
my Son." And therefore it is, that as her office exceeded that 
of prophet, preacher, and precursor, as her dignity so far tran- 
scended anything that heaven and earth could ever know or 
imagine in a creature, so the Almighty God reserved her alone 
amongst all that He created upon this earth, that she should be 
conceived, as well as born, without sin — that that stream of sin 
which touched us all, and in its touch defiled us, should never 
come near and soil the immaculate Mary — that that sin which 
has mixed itself up in our blood in Adam, and, upon the stream 
of that blood, found its way into the heart-veins of every child 
of this earth, could never flow in the immaculate veins that 
furnished to Jesus Christ the blood in w^hich He washed away 
the world's sin. Therefore the Almighty God for this took 
thought and forethought from all eternity. " The Lord possessed 
me in the beginning of his ways, before he made anything from 
the beginning;" that is to say, in the divine and eternal counsels 
of the Almighty God, Mary arose in all the splendor, in all the 
immaculate whiteness o^ her sanctity and purity, the first, the 
grandest, and the greatest of all the designs of the eternal 
wisdom of God, because in her was to be accomplished the 
m}'stery of mysteries, the mystery that was hidden from ages 
with Christ in God — namely, the incarnation of the eternal 
Word. Thus did the prophet behold her as she shone forth in 
the eternal counsels of God, when he looked up in that inspired 
moment at Patmos, and saw^ the heavens opened and all the 
glories of God revealed, there in the midst of the choirs of 
God's angels, there in the full blaze and effulgence of the light 
descending from the Father of Light, and exclaimed, " I be- 
held, and lo ! a great sign appeared in heaven — a woman 
clothed with the sun, and the moon beneath her feet, and on 
her head a crown of twelve stars." Who was this woman ? 
Mark what follows, and you will know for yourselves. And 
she brought forth a man-child who was to rule all nations with 
an iron rod ; and her son w^as taken up to God and to His 
throne." Whom can she be but the woman that brought forth 
that man-child, Jesus Christ, the Son of God ? Thus did the 
prophet behold her, the sign and promise of victory- and of 



The Immaculate Conception. 



265 



glory. And how significant are the mysterious words which 
follow% and the serpent cast out of his mouth after the woman 
water, as it were a river, that he might cause her to be carried 
away by the river. And the earth helped the woman, and the 
earth opened her mouth and swallowed up the river which the 
dragon cast out of his mouth." The earth indeed swallowed up 
these fatal waters. The whole world was saturated with them, 
but they never touched the woman. And we behold in this 
mystery the immaculate conception, for I can call it nothing 
else than a mystery of Divine grace, and which is a triple tri- 
umph, namely, the triumph of God, the triumph of human 
nature, and Mary's own triumph and glory. Consider these 
things, my friends. First of all, let us consider God's triumph 
in Mary. Recollect, dearly beloved, the circumstances that 
attended the fall and the sin of man. God made us in a perfect 
nature, perfect in its organization, perfect in its beautiful har- 
mony, perfect in its origin, perfect in its eternal destiny, perfect 
in the freedom and the glory with which he crowned the unfallen 
man. Thou hast made him little less than the angels, thou 
hast crowned him with honor and glory." Then came sin into 
this world, and spoiled the beautiful work of God. All the fair- 
est work of God was destroyed by Adam's sin. The integrity 
of our nature was injured. The harmony of our creation was 
disturbed. Bad passions and evil inclinations were let loose, 
and the soul, with its spiritual aspirations, its pure love, and un- 
shackled freedom, became their slave. But although the devil 
triumphed over God in thus breaking, destroying, defiling and 
spoiling God's work in man, yet his triumph was not perfect. 
God wished still to vindicate Himself. God would not give His 
enemy a total and entire triumph over Him in the destruction 
and spoiling of His work. God took Mary aside and said. For 
her let there be no sin ; for her let there be no soiling influence, 
for her no taint. He took her, in His eternal designs, into the 
bosom of His own infinite sanctity and omnipotent power, and 
whilst all our nature was destroyed, in her it retained its original 
purity, integrity, and beauty, in the one soul and body of the 
Blessed Virgin Mary. Thus we see the triumph of God ; and 
here, it is worthy of remark, dearly beloved, that although in 
Scripture we often read of God's designs being frustrated, of 
God's work being overturned and spoiled by sin or some evil 



266 



TJic Ivujiaciilatc Conception. 



agency — yet it is never totally spoiled. God never gives a com- 
plete triumph to His enemy. Thus, for instance, in the begin- 
ning, at the time of the deluge, all mankind were steeped in sin, 
and God, looking down from heaven, said : " I am sorr>^ that I 
created this race, for ]\Iy spirit is no longer among them." Yet, 
even then did the Almighty God reserve to Himself Noah and 
his children, and out of the whole race of mankind these were 
saved in purity and in sanctity, that God might not be utterly 
conquered by the devil. Again, when the Almighty God pre- 
pared to rain down fire upon Sodom, He could not find ten holy 
men in the land. And yet, in the universal corruption, Lot and 
his family were saved. They were holy, where all else was 
unholy, and they preserved God in their hearts. Again, when 
the tribe of Benjamin was destroyed from amongst the other 
tribes of Israel, a few were saved, that God's work might not be 
utterly destroyed. And so the prophet, speaking of the Jevv ish 
people, says : If the children of Israel were as the sands of the 
sea, yet a remnant shall be saved." 

Thus it is that we find, invariably, that the Almighty God 
allows, in His Avisdom and in His vengeance, the devil to go to 
a certain point, and to revel in destruction so far : but yet, sud- 
denly He stays him. God stretches out His hand, and says to 
him : Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther." This ought to be 
a great lesson to us in this our day. True, it seems to us in this 
our day that this devil of pride, this devil of infidelity, this devil 
of revolution, this devil of self-assertion, is let loose among the 
nations to play riot with the Church of God, to strike the crown 
from oft" the Pontiff's head, to pervert the ancient, faithful nation 
which has upheld him for centuries and make it the bitterest 
enemy of the Church, and to deprive the Head of the Church, 
for a time, of power. To-day, this devil runs riot in the world, 
shutting up Catholic Churches, expelling Jesuits, tainting the 
fountains of education, loosenino; the sacred bonds of marriage 
and of society, blaspheming Jesus Christ in the Eucharist, per- 
secuting His priests and bishops and representatives upon earth. 
But we know that, at some moment or other, and when we least 
expect it — perhaps right in the mid career of its apparent glor^* — • 
the terrible, invisible hand will be put forth, and a voice will be 
heard, " No more — back ! So far, in my vengeance, and so far, 
even in my mercy, I have allowed you. Back I Let there be 
peace." 



The Immaculate Conception. 



267 



And so the Almighty God triumphed even in the fall of 
Adam, which brought death into the world, polluted the blood, 
stirred up the passions, destroyed the equilibrium and harmony 
of human nature, and caused the very beasts of the forests to 
assume the savageness that they have to this day. All nature 
was tainted except that of Mary. Her, the hand of the omni- 
potent Lord held high above all attacks and attempts of her 
enemies, and in Mary God has triumphed, in that in her His 
glory has been preserved, she never having been tainted with or 
spoiled by sin. It is, also, the triumph of our nature. My 
friends, if Mary had not been conceived without sin, we might 
have been redeemed, we might have saved our souls, as we hope 
to do now ; we might have gone up into the glory of heaven ; 
but a perfect human being we never could have seen. Heaven 
would be a congregation of penitents if Mary were not there — 
tears upon their faces — but no tear upon thine, O Immaculate 
Mother! The blood of Jesus Christ upon the hands of all — no 
blood of Thy divine Son upon Thy immaculate hands, Oh Mary ! 
The unfallen man would have been a thing of the past. Even 
in heaven, the representative of what God had made in Adam 
would be wanting if Mary were not there, and, therefore, our 
nature has triumphed in her. We may all look up to her in 
heaven, we may all contemplate her, and we may glorify our 
humanity in Mary without the slightest fear of pride or blas- 
phemy against God, because the humanity that is in Mar}^, be- 
ing conceived without sin, is worthy of all honor and of all 
glory. I will not compare her in her immaculate conception 
with sinners ; I will compare her with the saints, and behold 
how she towers above them. All sanctity, whether it be wrought 
out by years of penance, by fasting and mortification, by labo- 
rious efforts for the conversion of souls, by utter consecration 
and sacrifice to God, by martyrdom, by any form of sanctity, 
attains to but one thing, and that is perfect sinlessness and 
perfect purity of soul. Perfect sinlessness and perfect purity of 
soul mean perfect union by the highest form of divine love with 
Almighty God. God so loves us, dearly beloved, that He wishes 
to have us all together united to Him by that intimate union 
of the strongest and most ardent love. How is it that that 
union is not effected ? Because of some little imperfection, 
some little sinfulness, some little crookedness in our souls, which 



258 



TJic Iimnaciilate ConccptioJi. 



keeps us from that perfect union of love with God. Now, the 
aim of all the saints is to attain to that ardent and perfect union 
with God by purging from their souls, from their bodies, from 
their affections, and from their senses, every vestige or inclination 
or even temptation to sin. When they have attained to that, 
God crowns their sinlessness with a perfect union of love, and 
they have attained to the acme or summit of their desires. It 
is here — precisely where all the saints have ended — here, pre- 
cisely where all the saints, tired and fatigued with the labors of 
the upward journey, knelt down in blessed rest on the summit 
of Christian perfection — that Mary's sanctity begins ; for in her 
immaculate conception, she was conceived without sin — no 
thought or shadow of thought to sin allied was ever allowed to 
fall upon the pure sunshine of her soul. No temptation to sin 
was ever allowed to quicken the pulsations of her sacred heart. 
Nothing of sin was ever allowed to approach her. Entrenched 
in the perfect sinlessness of her immaculate conception, the mo- 
ment she was conceived, she surpassed in sanctity — that is to 
say, in perfect sinlessness, and, consequently, in perfect union 
of love with God — all of the saints and angels in heaven. This 
is the meaning of the words in Scripture, where the prophet 
says: ''Wisdom built unto itself a house, and the foundation 
thereof is laid upon the summits of the holy mountain. The 
Lord loveth the threshold of Sion more than the palaces and 
tabernacles of Judah." You know that every word of Scrip- 
ture has a deep and God-like meaning. What meaning can 
these words have? Apply this to Mary's sanctity, we find the 
first moment of her existence upon the summit of the holy 
mountain — that is to say, her very first step in life — is dearer to 
the Lord than the palaces and tabernacles of Judah ; that is, all 
the edifices of sanctity that were ever built up on this earth. 
This was the beginning — the conception of the woman who was 
destined to be the mother of God, made man. But, you may 
ask me, in that case, If she never sinned, even in Adam, surely 
she stood in no need of a Redeemer ; surely she was the only 
one for whom it was not necessary that God should become 
man ; God became man to redeem sinners — to save them ; if 
this woman did not require redemption or salvation, why does 
she say in the Magnificat, *' My soul doth magnify the Lord, 
and my spirit hath rejoiced in God, my Saviour?" Well, my 



The Immaculate Conception. 



269 



friends, she owes as much to the blood of Calvary as we do, and 
more. He was more her Saviour than ours. Whence came 
the grace of her immaculate conception ? whence came the 
power that kept her out of the way when all the rest of man- 
kind was swept into this current of sin? It was her divine 
Son, foreseen in the years of his humanity — foreseen by 
the eye of God's justice in the agony of His crucifixion ; 
it was the blood that was shed upon Calvary to save us that 
saved Mary from ever being tainted with sin. Do you not 
know that the Almighty God may save in any way He Hkes ? Do 
you not know, my friends, that the Almighty God is not bound 
to save this soul or that, in this or that particular way ? For 
instance, the Almighty God appointed circumcision as the only 
way by which original sin was to be removed under the old law, 
and yet we know that He saved and sanctified Jeremias and 
John the Baptist without circumcision, and before ; because, 
although circumcision w^as the ordinary way, Almighty God did 
not tie His hands, nor oblige Himself never to apply an extraor- 
dinary way. And so, wherever there is a human spirit made 
fit for heaven, that saving and that fitness is purchased by the 
blood of Jesus Christ, and by that alone. It saved Mary, as it 
saved us, only in a different manner ; it saved us by falling upon 
our sinful heads in baptism — literally washing away the stain 
that was already there ; it saved Mary by anticipating baptism, 
by removing her from- the necessity of the sacrament, by antici- 
pation. In us this blood of Jesus Christ is a cleansing grace; 
in Mary it was a preventing grace. She is saved as much as we 
are. For instance, suppose a wise prophet — a man that had a 
knowledge of the future — were to stand on the sea-shore, and 
see a number of persons about to embark on board a ship, 
leaving for a distant port, and tliat he said to one of them, 
" That ship is going to be shipwrecked ; do not go on board," 
and the person followed his advice and was saved ; the others 
went out on the ship, and it is wrecked, as was foretold ; the 
prophet is there, by some mysterious means, and saves them all. 
He is as much the savior of the person who stayed on shore as of 
those he saved on the vessel after it was wrecked. And so it is 
wdth God. He took Mary aside, and His spirit overshadowed 
her, and He saved her. Oh, how gloriously does God save her I 
how magnificently He vindicated Himself in her! how kindly 



270 



The Iniviacjilatc Conception, 



and mercifully he preserved one specimen of our pure and un- 
broken nature in her ! Well might He hold her forth, as it 
were, in His hand, to frighten the devil, even on the day of his 
triumph, when he said : The woman, O spirit of evil, whom 
thou knowest well, will crush thy head." Mary was the terror 
of hell from the beginning, because hell was afraid, from the 
beginning, of the pure, unfallen nature of man, and that was 
saved only in her. 

Let us, therefore, meditate upon these things, and, giving 
thanks to God for all He did, for the greatest boon of mercy to 
our race — in that God so sanctified a creature that she might 
be worthy to approach him — endeavor, in our own humble way, 
by purifying our souls, putting away from us our sins, and by 
weeping over the follies and errors that we have allowed to 
come upon our souls, thus fit ourselves, that at some immeasur- 
able distance we too may be able to approach him and Mary, 
the Holy Mother of God. 




THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION, 



[Sermon delivered in St. Andrew's Church, New York, May igth, 1872,] 

" Thou art the glory of Jerusalem ; thou art the joy of Is;"ael ; thou art the honor 
of our people." 

HESE words, dearly beloved brethren, are found in 
the Book of Judith, and they commemorate a great 
and eventful period of Jewish history. At that time 
the Assyrian king sent a mighty army, under his gen- 
eral, Holofernes, to subdue all the nations of the earth, and to 
oblige them not only to forsake their own national existence, 
but also to conform to the religion and the rites of the Assyr- 
ians. This great army the Scripture describes to us as invin- 
cible. Their horses covered the plains ; their soldiers filled the 
valleys ; there was no power upon the earth that was able to 
resist them, until at length they came before a mountain-city 
called Bethulia. They summoned the fortress and commanded 
the soldiers to surrender. Now, in that town there was a 
woman by the name of Judith. The Scripture says of her that 
she was a holy woman ; that she fasted every day of her life, 
and that, though young and fair and most beautiful to behold, 
she lived altogether a secluded life, absorbed in prayer with 
God. When she saw the outlying army of the Assyrians — 
when she heard the proud claim of their general, that the peo- 
ple of her race, of her nation, should resign not only their 
national life, but also, their religion, and forsake the God of 
Israel — she arose in the might of her holiness and in the power 
of her strength, and she went forth from the city of Bethulia ; 
she sought the Assyrian camp ; she was brought into the pres- 
ence of Holofernes himself, and at the mid-hour of night, whilst 




The ImJnaculate Conception. 



he was sunk in his drunken slumbers, she entwined her hand 
in the hair of his head, she drew his own sword from the 
scabbard that hung by the bed, and she cut off his head, and 
brought it back in triumph to her people. The morning came ; 
the army found themselves without their general ; the Jewish 
soldiers and people rushed down upon them, and there was a 
mighty slaughter and a scattering of the enemies of God and 
of Israel ; and then the people, returning, met this wonderful 
woman, and the high-priest sang to her in these words : Thou 
art the glory of Jerusalem; thou art the joy of Israel ; thou art 
the honor of our people." 

Now, dearly beloved, this is not the only woman recorded in 
Scripture who did great things for the people and for the 
Church of God, and the word of Scripture, as applied to her, 
was meant in a higher and a greater sense — it was meant 
directly for Judith, but it was meant in a far higher and nobler 
sense for her of whom I am come to speak to you this evening 
— the Virgin Mother, who brought forth our Lord Jesus Christ 
unto this earth. To Mary does the word apply especially, as 
every great, heroic woman who appears in Scripture typified 
her. The sister of Moses, who led the choirs of the daughters 
of Israel ; the daughter of Jeptha, who laid down her virgin 
life for her people ; Deborah, who led the hosts of Israel ; the 
mother of the Maccabees, standing in the blood of her seven 
sons — these, and all such women of whom the Scripture makes 
mention, were all types of the higher, the greater, the real, 
yet the ideal woman, who was in the designs of God to be 

the glory of Jerusalem, the joy of Israel, and the honor of 
our people," namely: the Blessed Immaculate Virgin Mary. 
It is of the first of her graces that I am come to speak to you. 
The first of her graces was her immaculate conception. Let us 
consider this, and we shall see how she is the glory of Jerusa- 
lem, the joy of Israel, and the honor of our race and of our 
people. Dearly beloved, we know that before the eyes of God, 
there is no such thing as past and future as we behold it in 
the course of time. All that we consider in the past in this 
world's history is before the Almighty God at this moment, as 
if it were at this moment taking place ; all that we consider in 
the future, even to the uttermost limits of eternity, is before 



TJie Immaculate Conception. 



273 



the mind of God now, as if it were actually taking place under 
his eyes — for the difference between time and eternity is this : 
that in time — that is to say, in the measure of our life and 
of the world's history — everything comes in succession, event 
follows event, and moment of time follows the moment 
that went before it ; but in eternity, in time as viewed in 
relation to God, when time assumes the enormous infinite 
dimensions of eternity, there is neither past nor future, but 
all is present under the eye of God, circumscribed by his 
infinite vision and his infinite wisdom ; therefore, all that 
ever was to take place in time was seen and foreseen by the 
Almighty God. He foresaw the creation of man, although that 
creation did not come until after the eternal years that never 
had a beginning. And so he foresaw the fall of man ; how the 
first of our race was to pollute himself personally by sin, and in 
that personal pollution was to pollute our whole nature, because 
our nature came from him ; just as when the man poisons the 
fountain-head of the river, goes up into the mountains, finds the 
little spring from which the little river comes, that afterwards, 
passing into the valley, enlarges its bed, and swells in its dimen- 
sions, until it rolls a mighty torrent into the ocean. If you go 
up into the mountain, if you poison the fountain-head of the 
little stream that comes out from under the rock, all the waters 
that flow in the river-bed become infected and poisoned, be- 
cause the spring and the source of the river is tainted ; so, also, 
in Adam our nature sinned ; he lay at the fountain-head of 
humanity, and the whole stream of our nature that flowed from 
him came down to you and to me with the taint and poison of 
sin in our blood and in our veins. Therefore does the Apostle 
say that we are all born children of the wrath of God ; there- 
fore did the prophet of old say: For, behold, in iniquity was I 
conceived, and in sin did my mother conceive me." God saw 
and foresaw all this from eternity; He saw that His creature 
man, whom He made so pure, so perfect, so holy, was to be 
spoiled and tainted by sin. In that universal corruption, the 
Almighty God preserved to him one, and only one, of the race 
of mankind, and preserved that one specimen of our race un- 
polluted, untainted, unfaUen. That one was fhe Blessed Virgin 
Mary. Certainly, such a one must have existed, because the 
Scripture — the inspired word of God — speaks of such a one when 

18 



274 



TJie Iimnaciilatc Conception. 



it says : " Thou art all fair, oh, my beloved, and there is no 
stain on thee." Who is she ? Is she multiplied ? Is she found 
here and there amongst the daughters of men ? No ; she is one 
and only one. Therefore the Scripture says : " Wy beloved, my 
love, my dove, is one and only one." That one was the Blessed 
Virgin Mary. God took her and preserved her from the stream 
of corruption that infected our whole nature. God folded His 
arms of infinite" sanctity around her, and took her in the very first 
moments of her existence — nay, in the eternal decree that went 
before that existence. He folded her in the arms of His own 
infinite sanctity, and she is one to whom shade of thought of 
sin or evil has never been allo^ved to approach. Why is this ? 
Because, dearly beloved, she was destined from all eternity to 
be the mother of God, who was made incarnate in her. The 
language of the Church is : '* He was incarnate of the Holy 
Ghost and of the Virgin Mary, and was made man." She was 
destined from all eternity to be the mother of God — to give to 
the Almighty God that humanity, that body, that flesh and 
blood which He was to assume in His own divine person, and to 
make one with God by the unity of one divine person, the 
Second Person of the Blessed Trinity. Reflect upon this. The 
Scriptures expressly tell us that nothing defiled can approach to 
God — that nothing with the slightest speck or stain of sin upon 
it can come near God. Therefore it is, that in proportion as 
men approach to God, in the same proportion are they immacu- 
late. Almighty God tells us in the Scripture, expressly, that 
although all men were to be born in sin, yet there were a few, a 
very few, who were excepted from that general rule, because 
they were allowed to approach so near God. The prophet Jere- 
mias was excepted from that rule, and he was sanctified before 
he came forth from his mother's womb. Before thou earnest 
forth from thy mother, I sanctified thee," said the Lord. And 
why? Because he was destined to be a prophet, and to pro- 
pound the word of God to the people. John the Baptist was 
sanctified in his mother's womb, and came forth in his birth free 
from the original sin of Adam, because he was destined to be 
God's herald amongst men and say : Behold the Lamb of God, 
who takes away the sins of the world." And if these men — one 
because he was to preach the word of God, another because he 



TJie Immaculate Conception. 



275 



was to point out God to man — if they, because of this 
high function, were born without sin, surely, dearly beloved, 
we at once must conclude that the woman who was to give 
God His sacred humanity, the woman who was to be the mother 
of God, the woman who was to afford to the Almighty God 
that blood by which He wiped out the sin of the world, that 
woman must receive far more than either John the Baptist or 
Jeremias received and the grace that she received must have 
been the grace of the conception without sin ; and in truth, as 
nothing defiled, nothing tainted, was ever allowed to approach 
Almighty God, the woman who approached Him nearest of all 
the daughters of the earth, who came nearer to God than all 
His angels in heaven were allowed to approach Him, must be 
the only one of whom the Scripture speaks, when it says, My 
beloved is one and only one, and she is all fair, and there is no 
spot nor stain in her." What follows from this? It follows 
that the immaculate woman who was destined to be the mother 
of Jesus Christ received at the first moment of her being a grace 
inconceivably greater than all the grace that was given to all the 
angels in heaven, to all the saints upon the earth, because the 
dignity for which she was created was inconceivably greater than 
theirs. The highest angel in heaven was made but to be the 
servant of God. Mary was created to be the mother of God. 
What was that grace? Perfect purity, perfect sinlessness, perfect 
immaculateness, and consequently perfect love of God and high- 
est union with Him. For reflect, my dear friends, whenever the 
human soul is found perfectly free from sin, without spot or stain 
of sin, without the slightest inclination or temptation to sin — • 
wherever such a soul is found, that soul is united to the Almighty 
God by the highest, by the most perfect, and the most intimate 
union of divine love. God loves all his creatures, God loves the 
soul of man, so that wherever He finds that there is no impedi- 
ment of sin, no distortion of inclination, nothing to hinder that 
union, He gives Himself to that soul in the most intimate and 
highest form of love, and He gathers that soul to Him by the 
most perfect union. Hence it is that perfect union with God and 
perfect sinlessness mean one and the same thing. The Blessed 
Virgin Mary, conceived without sin, was kept and held aside to 
let the stream of sin flow by without touching her. The only 
one in whom our nature was preserved in all its pristine beauty 



276 



TJic luiviaculate Conception. 



and perfection, the blessed Virgin ]Mary. in that sinlessness of 
her conception, attained at the moment of her conception the 
most perfect and intimate union with God. And this, for which 
all the saints and all holy souls strive on the earth, the very 
highest climax of sainth- perfection, was the first beginning of 
her sanctity. The saint who wearies himself during the sixty 
or seventy years of his life, the hermit in the desert, the martyr 
in the arena, all aim at this one thing — to purge their souls most 
perfectly from sin, from every mortal and venal sin, to rise above 
their passions and their lower and sinful nature ; and in propor- 
tion as they attain to this do they climb the summit of perfec- 
tion and attain to perfect union with God. That which all the 
saints tend to, that which all the virgins and saints in the Church 
sigh for, that which they consider as the ver}' summit of their 
perfection — that is the grace that was given to Mary at the 
first moment of her being — namely, to be perfectly pure, per- 
fectly sinless, perfectl}^ immaculate, consequently perfectly united 
to God by supreme and most intimate love. And this is the 
meaning of the word of Scripture : The foundations of her are 
laid upon the holy mountain. The Lord loves the threshold of 
Zion more than all the tabernacles and tents of Judah ;" more 
than all the accumulated perfection of all the angels and saints 
of God : where they end is the beginning of Mary's perfection 
in his sight. 

Now, let me apply the text, " Thou art the glory of Jerusalem ; 
thou art the joy of Israel ; thou art the honor of our people." 
Whenever the Scriptures speak figuratively or spiritually of 
Jerusalem, they always allude to the kingdom of heaven, the 
kingdom of the just made perfect. The Church of God, dearly 
beloved, consists of three great elements or portions. There is 
the church that purges in purgatory the elect of God by the slow 
action of divine justice, cleansing them from every stain, and 
paying the last farthing of their debt. That is the Church Suf- 
fering. There is the church on earth, contending against the 
world, the flesh, and the devil; fighting a hard and weary battle, 
which you and I are obliged to fight all our lives. We are 
obliged to fight against our passions, and subdue them. We 
are obliged to fight against the powers of darkness seeking our 
destruction, and subdue them. We are obliged to fight with 
the world, surrounding us with its e\-il maxims, with its loose 



The Immaculate Conception. 277 

principles, with its false ideas of morality, with its bad example ; 
and, despising all these, to conquer them. We are obliged to 
fight the battle of our faith ; we are obliged to enter upon this, 
that, and the other questions, and upon these questions to take 
our stand as Catholics, and to fight the good fight of faith. The 
question of sacraments, the question of education, the question 
of the church, the question of the Pope, the question of the in- 
justice of the world "in robbing him of all his power and of his 
dignity, these, and a thousand others, are the burden of the 
Church's battle on this earth, and therefore she is called the 
Church Militant. The Suffering Church, or the Militant Church, 
it is still the same Church of God. Having passed through the 
battle-field of earth, having passed through the purgation of 
purgatory, and having attained to the vision of God, there she 
triumphs ; there she rejoices in the undiminished glory and the 
uncreated brightness of God — and that is the Church Triumph- 
ant. Now, the Scriptures, speaking of that kingdom of heaven, 
or of the Church Triumphant, mentions it under the name of 
Jerusalem. For instance : " I saw," says the inspired evangelist, 
the new Jerusalem descending from heaven, as a bride arrayed 
for her bridegroom." St. Paul, speaking of the same kingdom, 
says: But you are come to Mount Zion, and to the city of the 
living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to the spirits of the 
just made perfect." Jerusalem, therefore, as expressed in the 
words of my text, " Thou art the glory of Jerusalem," means 
the Church Triumphant. It means the glorious assemblage of 
all the angels of God ; it means the glorious society of all the 
saints of God ; it means all that heaven or earth ever held 
or had of noble, generous, self-sacrificing, and devoted, now 
crowned with the immortal, everlasting glory of the presence 
of God. And of that assemblage of the Church Triumphant, 
Mary is the glory. And why? Because, as the Scripture tells 
us expressly, the angels of God take interest in the affairs of 
this world. Our Lord, speaking of little children, says, Woe to 
you who scandalize them, because their angels see the face of my 
Father." Elsewhere he sa}'s, " There is joy in heaven for one 
sinner doing penance, rather than for ninety-nine just who need 
not penance." If, then, the angels in heaven rejoice at every 
new manifestation of the glory and omnipotence of God ; if 
their glory is to contemplate the Almighty God in his works, it 



278 



TJie Immaculate Conception. 



follows, that whenever they- see these works destroyed, when- 
ever they see the purposes of the Almighty God frustrated, 
whenever they see the work and the mercy of God ruined, they 
must grieve, as far as they are capable of grieving, because they 
rejoice when that work is restored by repentance. They, there- 
fore, looking down from their high place in heaven, beheld with 
great joy the new-born race of men ; they beheld the work of 
God most perfect in our first parents, Adam and Eve. They 
saw in the first woman that was created, the woman Avho was 
destined, in her progeny, to people heaven with saints, and to 
fill the thrones that were left empty there by the desertion of 
the rebel angels. Their glor}^ was, that their nine choirs before 
God might be filled, and that the chorus of heavenly music 
might be perfect in its harmony, by the filling of their places. 
They saw that one-third of their angelic brethren had fallen into 
hell, and left the halls of heaven more or less empty by their 
fall. They waited — the)^ waited for many years — we know not 
how long ; we know not but that that time of waiting may have 
extended for thousands of years — until at length they beheld the 
Creator make the new creature, man. They knew the destinies 
of man ; they knew that this woman who was made upon the 
earth, was to be the mother of the race that was to fill up their 
choirs, and to fulfill and make perfect their glory in heaven. 
Oh, how sad was their disappointment I oh, how terrible was 
their grief when they saw Eve fall into sin, and become the 
mother of a race of reprobates, and not of saints, and her des- 
tiny change ; that she should people hell with reprobates rather 
than fulfil her high office and people heaven with saints. Mary 
arose. The earth beheld her face. Her coming was as the 
rising of the morning star, which, trembling in its silvery beauty 
over the eastern hills, tells the silent and the darkened world 
that the bright sun is about to follow it and to dispel the dark- 
ness of the night by the splendor and the brightness of its shin- 
ing. Mar}^ arose, and when the angels of God beheld her their 
glory was fulfilled ; for now they knew that the mother of the 
saints was come, and that the woman was created who was to 
do what had failed in Eve — to people heaven with the progeny 
of saints in everlasting glor}'. Therefore did they hail her 
coming with angelic joy. Oh, what joy was theirs when they 
looked down upon the earth and beheld the fallen race of man 



TJie Immaculate Conception. 



279 



restored in all its first integrity in Mary ! Oh, what joy was 
theirs who rejoiced when Magdalen arose in all the purity of 
her repentance ; they who rejoice and make the vaults of 
heaven ring with their joy when you or I make a good confes- 
sion and do penance for our sins. Oh, what must their joy 
have been and the riot of their delight and of their glory when 
they beheld in Maiy the mother of all those who are ever to 
be saved, the mother of all true penitents, the mother of all 
the elect of God, for, becoming the mother of Jesus Christ, she 
has become the mother of all the rest. Therefore is she the 
glory of the heavenly Jerusalem. Therefore did these angels, 
on the day of her assumption, joyfully come to heaven's gate, 
and fill the mid-air with the sound of their triumph, when 
heaven's queen, the mother of heaven's God, was raised into 
the place of her glory. The morning stars praised the Lord 
together, and all the suns of God made a joyful melody." The 
glory of Jerusalem, the angel's glory, is concentrated in the glory 
of God. Whatever gives glory to God glorifies them. Now in 
all the works of God He is most glorified in Mary, as we shall 
see ; and therefore Mary is the glory of the heavenly Jerusalem 
and the delight of God's blessed spirits and angels in his ever- 
lasting kingdom. But she is more, she is the joy of Israel. 
What is this Israel? Jerusalem was the summit of Israel's tri- 
umphs. Israel had to fight for many a weary year before the 
foundations of the Holy City were laid. Israel, that is to say, 
the Jewish people, passed through the desert, crossing the Red 
Sea, fighting with their enemies, there to wait for many a long 
and weary year, until the holy city of Jerusalem was raised up 
in all its beauty, and until the temple of God was founded 
there. And just as that city, Jerusalem, that Gem of God, 
represents the Church Triumphant, so by the name of Israel 
the inspired one meant the Church Militant, the Church in the 
desert of this earth, the Church passing through the Red Sea 
of the martyr blood ; the Church crossing swords with every 
enemy of God and fighting and bearing the burden and the 
heat of the day. Of that Church Militant, of that Israel of 
God, Mary is the joy. Why ? Dearly beloved, Christ our Lord 
founded His Church for one express purpose, and it was that 
where sin abounded sin might be destroyed and grace abound 
still more. For this lam come," He* says, " that where sin 



28o 



The Immaculate Conception, 



abounded grace might abound still more." Wherever, there- 
fore, there is a victory over sin by Divine grace there is the joy 
of the Church Militant, because there is her work accomplished. 
Wherever the sinner rises out of his sin and does penance and 
returns to God, there the Church triumphs, her mission is ful- 
filled, the purpose for which she was created is accomplished, 
and her joy is' great in proportion. Now where has grace so 
triumphed over sin as in Mary ? Sin abounded in this world ; 
Christ came and shed his blood that grace might take the place 
of sin, and superabound where sin had abounded before. Where 
has grace so triumphed over sin as in Mary ? Great is the tri- 
umph of grace when it expels sin from the sinner's soul and 
makes that which was impure to be purified, and makes 
that which was unjust to be glorified by sanctity before 
God. Oh, still greater is the triumph when grace, can so 
anticipate sin as never to allow sin to make its appearance. 
The most perfect triumph of grace is in the utter exclusion of 
sin. Therefore it is that Christ our Lord, in His sacred human- 
ity, was grace itself personified in man, because in Him there 
was essential holiness and an utter impossibility of the approach 
of sin. If the joy of the Church then be in proportion to the 
triumph of grace over sin, surely she must be the joy of Israel 
and the first fruits of the Church, the only one that this mysti- 
cal body of Christ can offer to God as perfectly acceptable, the 
only soul, the only creature that the Church can offer to God 
and say, " Lord, look down from heaven upon this child and 
daughter of mine ; she is Thy beloved, in whom there is no spot 
nor stain." She is the joy of Israel. Oh, my dearly beloved, 
need I tell you, you who were born in the faith like myself, you 
who come from Catholic stock, from Catholic blood, you in 
whose veins, in whose Irish veins, hundreds of years of Catholic 
faith and Catholic sanctity are flowing, need I tell you of the 
woman whose name, preached by Patrick fourteen hundred 
years ago, has been from that hour to this Ireland's greatest 
consolation in the midst of her sorrows ? Ireland's greatest 
consolation. In the loss of fortune, in the loss of property, in 
the loss of liberty, in the loss of national existence, every Irish 
Catholic has been consoled in the midst of his privation, by the 
thought that the mother of God loved him and that he had a 

o 

claim upon Mary Mother. Well do I remember one whose ex- 



The Ininiaculatc Conception. 



281 



pression embodied all of Irish faith and Irish love for Mary ; an 
old woman whom I met, weeping over a grave, lying there with 
a broken heart, waiting only for the hand of death to put her into 
the dust where all she had loved had gone before her ; forgotten 
by all, abandoned by all, the hand of misery and poverty upon 
her, and when I would console her and speak to her of heaven 
and of heaven's glory, when I endeavored to lighten the burden 
of her sorrow by consolation, she turned to me and said : " Oh, 
father, you need not speak to me. The cross may be heavy, but 
the Virgin IMary's cross was heavier than mine." She forgot her 
sorrows in her great love for ^lary. Nay, that love, even in her 
sorrow, was as a gleam of hope, one ray of joy let in upon the 
soul that otherwise might have despaired. And thus it is that 
Mary — the knowledge of her love for us, the knowledge of our 
claim upon her, the knowledge of the divine commission that 
her Son gave her upon the cross, to be the mother of all that 
were ever to love Him — -is the one ray of joyful and divine con- 
solation that Christ our Lord lets in upon every wounded spirit 
and every broken heart. 

Finally, she is the honor of our people. Dear friends, the 
Almighty God, when He created us, invested His own divine 
honor in man. He gave to man a mighty intelligence, a high and 
pure love, and a freedom of will asserting the dominion of the 
soul over the body, and through that body the dominion of man 
over all creatures. Ever^'thing on this earth obeyed him. The 
eagle flying in the upper air closed his wings and came to earth 
to pay homage to the unfallen man. The lion and the tiger, at 
the sound of his voice, came forth from their lairs to lick the 
feet of their imperial master, the unfallen man. As everj'thing 
without him was obedient to him, so everything within him 
was obedient to the dictates of his clear reason and to the em- 
pire of his glorious will. In this was the honor of God reflected 
as it was invested in man. God gave him intelligence ; God is 
wisdom ; His wisdom was invested in man. God gave him love. 
God is love, and the purity of that love was reflected in the 
affections of unfallen man ; God is power, empire, and freedom, 
and the empire of God and the freedom of God were reflected 
in the free will of man, in the imperial sway in which he com- 
manded all creatures. Thus was the honor of God invested 
in us. Now sin came and destroyed all this. The serpent 



• 



283 



TJie Innnaculatc Conception. 



came hissing his triumph in the ears of a vain and foolish 
woman, who, unmindful of all that she had, risked all and lost 
all for the gratification of her appetite and of her womanly curi- 
osity. The serpent came and told Eve to rebel against God. 
Eve rebelled ; she induced Adam to rebel, and in this twofold 
rebellion man lost all that God had given him of grace and of 
supernatural goodness. All of divine honor that Almighty God 
reflected in man, all of divine glory that He had participated to 
man, all was lost ; the intelligence was darkened ; the affections 
were depraved ; the freedom of the soul was enslaved, and man 
was no longer the high, and pure, and perfect image of his 
Creator. Now, as we have seen, in that sin of Adam, not only 
was that man himself destroyed and corrupted, but the whole 
race of mankind was corrupted in him. How is Mary the 
honor of our people ? She is the honor of our people in this, 
that where all was ruined, she alone was preserved ; that but for 
her and her immaculate conception, neither God in heaven, nor 
saint, nor angel in heaven, nor man upon the earth would ever 
again look upon the face of unfallen man. The work of God 
would have been completely destroyed ; not a vestige would 
remain of what man was as he came from his Creator's hand, 
but that the Almighty preserved one unfallen specimen of our 
race to show his angels and his saints in heaven, and to show 
all men upon the earth what a glorious humanity was the un- 
tainted nature which God had invested in man. She is the 
solitary boast of our fallen nature. Take Mary away ; deprive 
her of the grace of an immaculate conception, let the slightest 
taint of sin come in, she is spoiled like the rest of us, and the 
Almighty God has not retained in the destruction of our race 
one single specimen of unfallen nature. But not so, for God in 
all His works may allow His enemy to prevail against Him ; 
He may allow the spirit of evil to come in and spoil and taint 
and destroy His works, but He never allows His works to be 
stroyed utterly — never. When mankind fell from God and 
from grace, so that the image of God and the spirit of God dis- 
appeared from amongst them, the Almighty found it necessary 
to destroy the whole race of man in the deluge. He preserved 
Noah, and his sons and his daughters ; eight souls were pre- 
served whilst hundreds of millions were destroyed ; but God 
in these eight souls preserved the race, and did not allow the 



The Immaculate Conception. 



283 



spirit of evil to utterly destroy His work. When God drew 
back again the bolts of heaven, and allowed the living fire of His 
wrath to fall upon Sodom and Gomorrah, and destroyed the 
whole nation, yet even then He saved Lot and his family, and 
a few were saved where the rest were lost. When the Almighty 
God resolved to destroy for impurity the whole race of Ben- 
jamin, yet he preserved a few, lest the whole tribe might be 
utterly destroyed. And thus it is that we find the Almighty 
God always preserving one or two or three specimens of His 
work, lest the devil might glory overmuch, and riot in his joy for 
having utterly destroyed the work of God. Our nature was 
destroyed in Eve. One fair specimen of all that could be in us, 
of all that was in Adam before his sin, of all that God intended 
man to be, one fair specimen of all this was preserved in Mary, 
who, in her immaculate conception, enshrined in the infinite holi- 
ness of God, was preserved untainted and unfallen, as if Adam 
had never sinned. It may be asked if, then, this woman was with- 
out sin, if she was conceived without sin, how is it that she calls 
Christ her Saviour, saying : " My soul doth magnify the Lord, 
and my spirit hath rejoiced in God, my Saviour." Oh, my friends, 
need I tell you that Christ our Lord is as much the Saviour of 
Mary as He is your Saviour or mine? Need I tell you but that 
for His incarnation, but for His suffering and passion and death, 
Mary could not have received the grace of her immaculate con- 
ception — no more than you or I could have received the grace of 
our baptism ? Baptism has done for us, as far as regards the 
removal of original sin, all the immaculate conception has for 
Mary. For the four thousand years that went before the in- 
carnation of the Son of God, every child of Adam that was 
saved, was saved through the anticipated merits of the 
blood that was shed upon Calvary. Adam himself was 
saved, Moses was saved, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Daniel 
— all the prophets, all the saints, were saved by their faith 
in the Son of God, and by the prevision of his merits before 
his Eternal Father. The merits of the Son of God not yet in- 
carnate, yet foreseen and applied thousands of years before their 
time to the souls of the patriarchs and the prophets, the self-same 
merits were applied to the soul of Mary in the eternal design of 
God, in her immaculate conception. He is as much her Saviour as 
he is ours, only he saved her in a way quite different from that 



284 



The Iininacidate Conception. 



in which we are saved. You may save a man, for instance, by 
keeping him from going into the way of danger ; you may save 
a child by taking it out of the street when some dangerous pro- 
cession is passing, or when some raihvay engine is passing — 
something that may endanger its life ; or you may save the same 
child, when in immediate danger, by the touch of your powerful 
and saving hand, and restore it to life. So the Almighty God 
saved Mary by preventing the evil, just as He saves us by 
cleansing us from the evil which has already fallen on us. 
Hence it is that she, more than any of us, had reason to call 
Christ — her son — her Lord and her Saviour. My soul doth 
magnify the Lord," she said, " and my spirit hath rejoiced in 
God, my Saviour." Truly He was her Saviour. Truly He shows 
His power in the manner in which He saved 'her. He did not 
permit her to be immersed in the ocean of sin ; He did not take 
her, as something filthy and defiled, and wash her soul in the 
laver of baptism, but he applied the graces of baptism to her 
conception, so that she came into this world all pure, all holy, 
all immaculate, just as the Christian child comes forth from the 
baptismal fount. Behold, then, how she is the glory of the 
heavenly Jerusalem, the joy of the earthly church of Israel, and 
the honor of our people ; seeing that if Mary were not as 
she is in heaven, immaculate and unstained, that heaven would 
be, after all, only a congregation of the penitent. Every other 
soul that enters heaven enters as a Magdalen — at least as a 
Magdalen rising from original sin. Mary alone entered heaven 
as Eve would have entered if she had resisted the evil and con- 
quered the temptation of her sin. Thus do we behold, dearly 
beloved, the mother of God as she shines forth before us in the 
prophecy of Scripture — an honor and a triumph and a symbol 
of God's complete victory. The victory that God gains over sin 
is not complete when he has to come to remedy that evil after 
it has fallen upon the soul. The complete triumph of God is 
when he is able to preserve the soul from , any approach of that 
evil, and to keep it in all its original purity and immaculateness 
and innocence. Such was the woman w^hom the prophet be- 
held : " And a great sign appeared in heaven — a woman clothed 
with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and on her head a 
crown of twelve stars." Of what w^as this woman a sign? She 
was the sign of the victory of God, for he adds : And I saw 



TJie Imniaciilatc Coiiccptioii. 



285 



another sign in heaven — a great dragon stood before the 
Avoman who was ready to be dehvered ; but he was cast forth ; 
and his place was not found any more in heaven." And 
Mary shone forth, in the eternal council of God, the very 
sign and type, promise and symbol, of God's victory over sin. 
God's victory over sin was complete, as every victory of God is, 
and the completeness of that victory was embodied in the im- 
maculate conception of ]\Iary. What wonder, then, dearly 
beloved, that we should honor one whom God has so loved to 
honor. What vronder that we should hail her as all pure ; hail 
her from earth, whom God hailed from heaven, saying : " Thou 
art all fair, m}- beloved, and there is no stain in thee." What 
wonder that we should rejoice in her who is the joy and the 
glor}- of the heavenly Jerusalem. What wonder that we should 
sing praises to her forever, as the very type of purity, innocence, 
and virtue, whom the Almighty God so filled up with all his 
highest gifts that heaven and earth never beheld such a creature 
as jNIary ; that the veri' angel coming down from before the 
throne of God was astonished when he beheld her greatness ; 
and. bending in his human form before her, said : ''All hail to 
thee, oh Mary, for thou art full of grace ;" and when she trem- 
bled at his words he assured her, saying : Fear not, oh, ]\Iary, 
for thou hast found grace before the Lord." Oh, how grand 
was her finding I Grace was lost by the first woman. Eve, and 
the daughters of earth sought it for four thousand years and 
found it not. How could they find it? They came into this 
world without it. How could they find that grace which Eve 
had lost ? They came tainted by Eve's sin upon" this earth. 
Mar\' alone found it — the grace of immaculate creation, the 
grace of primeval purity. Therefore the angel said to her : 
" Fear not. I tell thee that thou shalt be the mother of God, 
and that He that is to be born of thee is to be called the Son of 
the Most High. Yet, oh, woman, fear not, for I say to thee 
that thou hast found grace before the Lord." Therefore do we 
honor her, my dearly beloved ; therefore do we rejoice that she, 
being such as she is, is still our mother and regards us with a 
mother's love, and we can look up to her with the unsuspecting 
and confiding love of a child. Oh, mother mine — oh, mother of 
the Church of God — oh, mother of all the nations — oh, mother 
that kept the faith in Ireland, that through temptation and suf- 



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fering never lost her love for thee — I hail thee ! As thou art 
in heaven to-night, clothed with the sun of divine justice, with 
the moon reflecting all earthly virtues beneath thy feet, upon 
thy head a crown of twelve stars, God's brightest gift, I hail 
thee, oh mother ! And in the name of the Catholic Church, 
and in the name of my Catholic people, and in the name of the 
far-off and loved land that ever loved thee, I proclaim that thou 
art the glory of Jerusalem, thou art the joy of Israel, and thou 
art the honor of our people ! 



THE POPE. 



THE CROWN WHICH HE WEARS, AND OF WHICH NO MAN 
CAN DEPRIVE HIM. 



[Delivered in the Brooklyn Academy of Music, Wednesday, April 24th, for the 
benefit of the orphans in charge of the Sisters of Mercy.] 

E are assembled this evening, my dear friends, to con- 
template the greatest work of all the works that the 
Almighty God ever created — namely, The CONSTITU- 
TION OF THE Holy Catholic Church. In every 
work of God it has been well observed that the Creator's mind 
shows itself in the wonderful harmony that we behold in it. 
Therefore, the poet has justly said that " Order is heaven's first 
law." But if this be true of earthly things, how much more 
truly wonderful does that harmony of God, in the order which 
is the very expression of the divine mind, come forth and appear 
when we come to contemplate the glorious Church which Jesus 
Christ first founded upon this earth. The glorious Church, I 
call her, and in using those words I only quote the inspired 
Scriptures of God ; for we are told that this Church, which 
Christ the Lord established, is a glorious Church, without spot 
or speck or wrinkle, or any such thing, or defect of any kind, 
but all-perfect, all-glorious, and fit to be what He intended her 
to be — the immaculate spouse of the Son of God. 

Now, that our divine Redeemer intended to establish such a 
Church upon the earth is patent from the repeated words of the 
Lord Himself; for it will appear that one of the strongest inten- 
tions that was in the mind of the Redeemer, and one of the 
primary conceptions of His wisdom, was to establish upon this 
earth a Church, of which He speaks, over and over again, say- 
ing, " I will build My Church so that the gates of hell shall never 




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prevail against it." He that will not hear the voice of the 
Church, let him be as if he were a heathen or an infidel." And 
so, throughout the Gospels, we find the Son of God again and 
again alluding to His Church, proclaiming what that Church 
was to be, and He set upon her the signs by which all men were 
to know her as a patent and self-evident fact among the nations 
of the world until the end of time. And what idea does our 
Lord give us of His Church? He tells us, first of all, and tells 
us over and over again, that His Church is to be a kingdom, 
and he calls it " My Kingdom." And elsewhere, in repeated 
portions of the Gospel, he speaks of it as " the Kingdom of 
God ;" and one time he likens it unto a city, which was built 
upon the mountain-side, so that all men might behold it. And 
again unto a candle set upon the candlestick, so that it might 
shed its light throughout the whole house, and that every one 
entering the house might behold it. And again, " the Kingdom 
of God is like unto a net cast out into the sea, and sweeping in 
all that comes in its way — fish, good and bad." And so through- 
out, Christ always speaks of His Church as a kingdom that He 
was to establish upon this earth. When, therefore, any medi- 
tative, thoughtful man reads the Scriptures reverently, unim- 
passionedly, without a film of prejudice over his eyes, he must 
come to the conclusion that Christ, beyond all doubt, founded a 
spiritual kingdom upon this earth, and that that kingdom was 
so founded as to be easily recognized by all men. Now, if we 
once let into our minds the idea that the Church of Christ is a 
kingdom, we must at once admit in the Church an organization 
which is necessary for every kingdom upon this earth. And 
what is the first element of a nation ? I ansAver, that the first 
element of a nation is to have a head or ruler. Call him what 
you will — elect him as you will. Is it a republic, it must ha\'e 
a president. Is it a monarchy, it must have its king. Is it an 
em.pire, it must have its emperor ; and so on. But the moment 
you imagine a state or a kingdom of any kind without a head, 
that moment you destroy out of your mind the very idea of a 
state united for certain purposes, and governed by certain known 
and acknowledged ideas called laws. That head of the nation 
must be the supreme tribunal of the nation. From him, in his 
executive office, all subordinate officers hold their power ; and, 
even though he be elected by the people and chosen from among 



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289 



the people, the moment he is set at the head of the state or 
nation, that moment he is the representative or embodiment of 
the fountain of authority. Every one wielding power within 
that nation must bow to him. Every one exercising jurisdiction 
within the nation must derive it from him. He, I say again, 
may derive it, even, from the choice of the people ; but 
when he is thus elevated he forms one unit, to which 
everything in the state is bound to look up. This is 
the very first idea and notion which the word state or 
kingdom involves. It follows, therefore, that, if the Church 
founded by Christ be a kingdom, the Church must have 
a head; and, if you can imagine a Church without a head, yet 
retaining its consistency, its strength, its unity, and its useful- 
ness, for any purpose for which it was created, you can imagine 
a thing that it is impossible to my mind, or to the mind of any 
reasonable man, to conceive. Luther imagined it, when he broke 
up the nations of the earth with his Protestant heresy, when he 
rent asunder the sacred garment of unity that girded the fair 
form of the holy Church, the spouse of God. Yet when he 
broke up the Church, he was obliged to establish the principle 
of headship. The Church of England had her head ; the Church 
of Denmark had her head ; that is to say, her fountain of juris- 
diction, her ruling authority, the existence of Avhich in all these 
states w^e see, with at least the appearance of religion, kept up 
— the phantasm of a real church. It is true, my friends, when 
you come to analyze these different heads that spring up in the 
different Protestant Churches in the various countries of Europe, 
we shall find some amongst them, that I believe here, in 
America, would be called ''sore-heads." Harry the Eighth 
.was a remarkable sore-head. Perhaps, if he had got a good 
combing from the Almighty God in this world, he would not 
get so bad a combing as he is, in all probability, receiving where 
he now is. 

We next come to the question : Who is the head of the 
Church of Christ ? Who is the ruler ? Before I answer this 
question, my friends, I will ask you to rise, in imagination and 
thought, to the grandeur of the idea that filled the mind and 
the unfathomable wisdom of God, when He was laying the 
foundations and sinking them deeply into the earth — the foun- 
dations of His Church. 

19 



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The Pope 



What purpose had Christ, the Son of God, in view, that He 
should estabhsh the Church at all ? He answers, and tells us 
emphatically, that He had two distinct purposes in view, and 
that it was the destiny of the Church which He was about to 
found, to make these purposes known and carry them out, and 
with the extension of them to spread herself and be faithful to 
them unto the consummation of the world. What were these 
purposes ? The first of these w^as to enlighten the world and 
dispel darkness by the light of her teachings. Wherefore He 
said to His Apostles, You are the light of the world. Let 
your light shine before men that all men may see your works, 
and seeing you may give glory to your Father, who is in heaven." 
" You are the light of the world," He says. A man does not 
light a candle and put it under a bushel, but sets it upon a 
candlestick, that it may illumine the whole house, and that all 
men entering may behold it. So I say unto you, you are the 
light of the world and the illumination of all ages. This was 
the first purpose for which Christ founded His Church. The 
world was in darkness. Every light had beamed upon it, but 
in vain. The light of pagan philosophy, even the highest human 
knowledge, had beamed forth from Plato, and from the philoso- 
phers, but it was unable to penetrate the thick vail that over- 
shadowed the intellect and the genius of men, and to illumine 
that intelligence with one ray of celestial or divine truth. 
The light of genius had beamed upon it. The noblest works 
of art this earth ever beheld were raised before the admir- 
ing eyes of the pagans of the world, but neither the pencil of 
Praxiteles, nor the chisel of Phidias, bringing forth the highest 
forms of artistic beauty, were able to elevate the mind of the 
pagan to one pure thought of the God who made him. Every, 
human light had tried in vain to dispel this thick cloud of dark- 
ness. The light of God alone could do it, and that light came 
with Jesus Christ from heaven. Wherefore He said : I am 
the light of the world; " and ''in Him," says the Evangelist, 
''was life, and the life was the light of men." 

The next mission of the Church was not only to illumine the 
darkness, but to heal the corruption of the world, which had 
grown literally rotten in the festering of its own spiritual ulcers, 
until every form that human crime can take was not only estab- 
lished amongst 'men, but acknowledged amongst them — crowned 



The Pope. 



291 



amongst them ; not only acknowledged and avowed, but actually 
lifted up upon their altars and deified in the midst of them, so 
that men were taught to adore a God — the shameful imper- 
sonation of their own licentiousness, debauchery, and sin. 
Terrible was the moral condition of the w^orld when the hand 
of an angry God was forced to draw back the flood-gates of 
heaven and sweep away the corruption which prevailed through 
the flesh, until the spiritual God beheld no vestige of his re- 
semblance left in man ! Terrible was the corruption when 
the same hand was obliged once more to be put forth, and 
down from heaven came a rain of living fire, and burned up a 
whole nation because they were corrupt ! Terrible was the 
corruption when the Almighty God called upon every pure- 
minded man to draw the sword, in the name of the God of 
Israel, and smite his neighbor and his friend, until a whole 
nation was swept away from out the twelve tribes of Israel I 
Christ w^as sent as our head, and He came and found a world 
one festering and corrupt ulcerous sore ; and He laid upon it 
the saving salve of His mercy, and He declared that He was the 
purifier of society ; and to His disciples He said : You are not 
only the life of the world to dispel its darkness, but you are the 
salt of the earth to heal and sweeten and to preserve a cor- 
rupt and a fallen race and nature. This is the second great 
mission of the Church of God, to heal with her sacramental 
touch, to purify with her holy grace, to wipe away the corrup- 
tion of the world, and to prevent its return by laying the heal- 
ing influence of Divine grace there. This is the mission of the 
Church of God — which was Christ's — to be unto the end of time 
the light of the world and the salt of the earth. And from 
this twofold office of the Church of God, I argue that God 
Himself — the God who founded her, the God who established 
her in so much glory and for so high and holy a purpose, the 
God who made her and created her. His fairest and most beau- 
tiful work — that God must remain with her, and be her true 
head unto the end of time. And why ? Who is the light of 
the world ? I am, says Jesus Christ. Who is the purifier of 
the world? I am, responds the same Christ. If then, thou, 
Christ, be the purifier of the earth and the light of the world, 
tell us, O Master, can light, or grace, or purity come from an\' 
other source than Thee? He answers, No ; the man who seeks 



292 



The Pope. 



it but in Me finds for his light darkness, and for his healing, 
corruption and death. The man who plants upon any other 
soil than Me, plants indeed, but the heavenly Father's hand 
shall pluck out what he plants.- Christ, therefore, is the true 
head of His Church, the abiding head of His Church, the un- 
failing, ever watchful head of His Church, and is as much to- 
day the head of the Church as He was eighteen hundred years 
ago. Christ to-day is the real head, the abiding head. He 
arose from the dead after He had lain three days in darkness. 
He had said to His Apostles: I am about to leave you, but it 
will only be for a little ; a little Avhile and you shall not see Me 
any more, but after a very little while }'ou shall see Me again, 
and then I will not leave you orphans, I will come to you 
again, and I will remain with you all days unto the consumma- 
tion of the world. Oh ! my friends, what a consoling thought 
this unfailing promise of the words of the Redeemer. Oh ! 
Avhat a consolation has this world in Him who said : " Heaven 
and earth shall pass away, but My Word shall never pass away ; 
I am with you all days unto the consummation of the world." 
And how is He with us ? Is He with us visibly ? No. Do we 
behold Him with our eyes? No. Do we hear His own im- 
mediate voice? No. Have any of you ever seen Him or 
heard Him immediately and directly, as John the Evangelist 
saw Him Avhen He was upon the cross; as Mary the Magdalen 
heard Him when He said to her, " I am the resurrection and 
the life " ? No. Yet He founded a visible kingdom, a kingdom 
which was to be set upon the earth, as a candle set upon the 
candlestick. Therefore, if He is at the head of that kingdom, 
if He is to preside over it, if He is to rule and govern it, a 
visible kingdom. He must show .Himself visibly. This He does 
not. In His second and abiding coming He hides Himself 
within the golden gates of the Tabernacle, and there He abides 
and remains; but when it was a question of governing His 
Church, Christ our Lord Himself appointed a visible head. 
And who was this ? He called twelve men around Him, He 
gave them power and jurisdiction, He gave them the glorious 
mission of the apostleship ; He gave them a communication of 
His own spirit ; He gave them inspiration. He breathed His 
Holy Spirit, the Third Person of the blessed Trinity, upon 
them, and He took one of the twelve, and He spoke to this 



The Pop. 



293 



one man three most important words. The}^ were meant for 
that one man alone, and the proof is that on each occasion 
when Christ spake to them He called the twelve around Him, 
and He spoke to that one man in the presence of the other 
eleven, that there might be eleven witnesses to the privileges 
and the power of the one. Who was that one man ? St. 
Peter. St. Peter was chosen among the Apostles. St. Peter, 
not up to that time the one that was most loved, for John was 
the disciple whom Jesus loved ; St. Peter, more than any of the 
others, was reproved by his Lord, in the severest terms ; St. 
Peter, more than any of the others who remained faithful, 
showed his weakness until the confirming power of the Holy 
Ghost came upon him. Still Peter was the one chosen, and 
here are the three words which Christ spoke. First of all He 
said, Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build My 
Church." Christ heard the people speaking of Him, and He 
said, Who dp they say I am ?" and the Apostles answered. 

Lord, some of them say you are John the Baptist, and some 
of them say you are Elias, and some Jeremias, or one of the 
prophets." Then Christ asked them solemnly, Who do you 
say I am?" Down went Peter on his knees, and cried out. 

Thou art Christ, the Son of the Living God." Then Christ, 
our Lord, said to him, Blessed art thou, Simon, son of John, 
because flesh and blood hath not revealed it to thee, but My 
Father, who is in heaven. And I say to thee that thou art 
Cephas, and upon this rock I will build My Church." The 
man who denies to Peter the glorious and wonderful privilege 
of being the visible foundation underlying the Church of God 
and upholding it, is untrue to Christ, the head of the Church. 

The second word that the Son of God spoke to Peter Avas 
this : " To thee, O Peter," He says, in the presence of the 
others, " to thee, O Peter, do I give the keys of the kingdom 
of heaven. Whatsoever thou shalt bind upon earth shall be 
bound in heaven, and w^hatsoever thou shalt loose upon earth 
shall be loosed in heaven." He gave his promise to them all, 
but to Peter singly He said : " To thee do I give the keys of the 
kingdom of heaven." That is the supreme power over the 
Church. 

On another occasion, Christ, our Lord, spoke to Peter, and 
the others were present, and He said to him, " Sinion, Simon, 



294 



The Pope. 



behold, Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift you as 
wheat. But I have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not ; and 
thou, being once converted, confirm thy brethren^ 

Now, any man who denies to Peter, in the Church, that eternal 
kingdom that is never to come to an end, and to Peter and his 
successors, the power over his brethren to confirm them in the 
faith which shall never fail, in the faith which was the subject 
of the prayer of the Son of God to His Father — any man who 
denies this supremacy of Peter gives the lie to Jesus Christ. 

Then, on another solemn occasion the Son of God spoke to 
Peter, when He was preparing to bid His apostles and disciples a 
last farewell. They had seen Him crucified ; they had seen Him 
lie disfigured, mangled, in the silent tomb. From that tomb, 
with a power which was all His own. He rose like the lightning of 
God to the heavens, sending before Him, howling and shrieking, 
all the demons of hell, conquered and subdued. 

The Apostles, not yet fully realizing their Master's glory, were 
sad and discouraged, and some short time after, the Lord ap- 
peared to them on the shores of the Sea of Tiberias, where the}- 
had fished all the night, but caught nothing. There were to- 
gether Simon Peter, and Thomas, and Nathaniel, and the sons 
of Zebedee, and two others of His disciples .... and 
Jesus saith to Simon Peter, Simon, son of John, lovest thou Me 
more than these? He saith to Him, yea. Lord, thou knowest 
that I love Thee. He saith to him, feed My lambs. He saith 
to him again, Simon, son of John, lovest thou Me? He saith to 
Him, yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee. He saith to 
him, feed My lambs. He saith to him the third time, Simon, 
son of John, lovest thou Me ? Peter was grieved because He had 
said to him the third time, lovest thou Me ? and he said to Him, 
Lord, thou knowest all things ; thou knowest that I love thee. 
He said to him, feed My sheep." Elsewhere the same Redeemer 
said, There shall be but one fold and one shepherd ;" and He 
laid His hand upon the head of Peter, and said, Thou art Peter, 
the son of John, be thou the shepherd of the one fold — feed 
My lambs and feed My sheep." He who denies, therefore, to 
Peter, and Peter's successor, whoever he is, the one headship, 
the one office, and the one shepherd in the one fold of God, 
gives the lie to Jesus Christ, the God of Truth. 

Well, the day of the Ascension came. For forty days did 



The Pope. 295 

Christ remain discoursing with His Apostles, instructing them 
concerning the kingdom of God, and when the forty days were 
over He led them forth from Jerusalem into the silent, beautiful 
Mountain of Olives, and there, as they were around Him, and 
He was speaking to them, and telling them of things concern- 
ing the kingdom of God — that is, the Church — slowly, wonder- 
fully, majestically, they beheld His figure rise from the earth, and 
as it arose above their heads it caught a new glory and splendor 
that was shed down upon it from the broken and the rent heavens 
above. They followed Him w4th their eyes. They saw^ Him pass 
from ring to ring of light. Their ears caught the music of the 
nine choirs of heaven, of millions of angels \n\\o from the 
clouds saluted the coming Lord. They strained their eyes and 
their hands after Him. They lifted up their voices, saying, as 
did Eliseus of old to Elias : Oh ! thou chariot of Israel ! and 
its charioteer," wdlt thou leave us? And from the clouds that 
were surrounding Him He waved to them His last blessing, 
and their straining eyes caught the last lustre and brightness 
of His figure as it disappeared in the empyrean of heaven 
and was caught up to the throne of God. Then an angel 
flashed into their presence, and said, "Ye men of Galilee, why 
stand ye looking up to heaven ; this Jesus who is taken up from 
you into heaven, shall so come, as you have seen Him going 
into heaven." And the eleven disciples bent their knees to 
Peter, the living representative of the supremacy, the truth, and 
the purity of Jesus Christ. 

Henceforth the life of Peter, and of Peter's successor, became 
the great leading light, around which, and towards which, the 
whole histor^^ of the w^orld revolved. It became the central 
point, to which everything upon this earth must tend, because, 
in the designs of God, the things of time are but for the things 
of eternity ; and Peter, in being the representative and viceroy 
of the Son of God upon the earth — in the external headship 
and government of the Church — was the only man who came 
nearest to God, who had most of God in him, and most of God 
in his power — in the distribution of his grace, in the attributes 
that belong to the Saviour — and, consequently, became the first 
and highest and greatest of men, and the only man that was 
necessary in this world. How many long and wear}' years Peter 
labored in his Master's cause, watering the way of his life with 



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The Pope. 



the tears of an abiding sorrow I — in that, in an hour of ^\■eak- 
ness, he had denied Jesus Christ, until, at length, man}- years 
after the Saviour's ascension into heaven, an old man was 
brought forth from a deep dungeon in Rome. There were 
chains upon his aged limbs, and he was bowed down with care 
and with austerity to the very earth. The few white hairs upon 
his head fell upon his aged and drooping shoulders. ]\Ieekly 
his lips murmured as in prayer, while he toiled up the steep, 
rugged side of one of the seven hills of Rome, and when he 
had gained the summit, lo I as in Jerusalem, man}- }-ears before, 
there was a cross and there were three nails. The}- nailed the 
aged man to that cross, straining his time-worn limbs, until 
the}- drove the nails into his hands and feet, and then, when the}- 
were about to lift him, a faint prayer came from his lips, and the 
crucified man said: ''There was One in Jerusalem whose royal 
head was lifted toward heaven upon a cross, and He Avas ni}^ 
Lord and m}- God, Jesus Christ. I am not worthy," he said, 
" to be made like Him, even in suffering, and. therefore, I pray 
you, that you crucif}' me with my head toward the earth, from 
which I came." And so. thus elevated, he died, and the first 
pope passed awa}-. For three hundred }-ears pope has succeeded 
pope. Peter had no sooner left the world than Linus took his 
sceptre and governed the Church of God. Though down in the 
catacombs, yet he governed the Church of God. Ever}- bishop 
in the Church, every power in the Church, recognized him and 
obeyed him as the representative of God — the living head, the 
earthty vicero}- of the invisible but real head. Jesus Christ. 
For three hu idred }^ears pope after pope died, and sealed his 
faith in the Church of God with a martyr's blood ; and then, 
after three hundred years of dire persecution, the Church of God 
was free, and she walked the earth in all the majesty and purity 
of her beauty. In the fifth century the Roman Empire yet pre- 
served the outward form of its majesty and power. All the 
nations of the earth bowed to Rome. All the conquered people 
looked to Rome as their mistress, and as the centre of the 
world, when, suddenly, from the forests and snows of the Xorth, 
poured down the Huns, the Goths, and Visigoths, in countless 
thousands and hundreds of thousands. The barbarian hordes 
sallied from their fastnesses, and, led by their savage kings, 
broke to pieces the whole Roman Empire, and shattered the 



TJie Pope. 



297 



whole fabric of Pagan civilization to atoms. They rode rough- 
shod o\-er the Roman citizens and their rulers, burned their 
palaces, and destroyed whole cities, leaving them a pile of 
smoldering ruins. Every vestige of ancient Pagan civilization 
and power, glory, and art, and science, went down and dis- 
appeared under the tramp of the horses of Attila. One power, 
alone, stood before these ruthless destroyers ; one power alone 
opened its arms to receive them ; one power arrested them in 
their career of blood and victory, and that power was the 
Catholic Church. In that day, says a Protestant historian, the 
Catholic Church saved the world, and out of these rude elements 
formed the foundation of the ci\-ilization, the liberty, and the 
glory which is our portion in this nineteenth century. In the 
meantime Rome was destroyed. The fairest provinces of Gaul, 
Spain, Italy, and Germany were overrun by the barbarians, and 
the people oppressed, fathers of families cut off, hearth-fires ex- 
tinguished, and the blood of the }-oung ravished maiden and of 
the weeping mother wantonly shed. The people in their agony 
cried out to the onh' man whom the barbarians revered and 
respected, whom the whole world recognized as one tinged with 
divinity — the Pope of Rome — the cry of an anguished people 
went forth from end to end of Italy ; and in that ninth century 
the cry was. Save us from ruin I Cover us with the mantle of 
your protection I Be thou our monarch and king ! and then, 
and then onl}-, can we expect to be saved I Then did the Pope 
of Rome clothe himself with a new power, independent of that 
which he had received already, and which was recognized from 
the beginning — nameh*, that temporal power and sovereignty, 
that crown of a monarch, that place at the council-chambers of 
kings, that voice in the guidance of nations, and in the influenc- 
ing of the destinies of the material world, which, for century 
after century, he exercised, but which v\-e, in our day, have seen 
him deprived of, by the hands of those who have plucked the 
kincrlv crown from his acred and venerable brow. How did he 
exercise that power ? How did he wear that crown ? What posi- 
tion does he hold, as his figure rises up before the vision of the 
student of history, looking back into the past, and beholding him 
as he passes amongst the long file of kings and warriors of the 
earth ! Oh, ni}' friends, no sword dripping with blood is seen in the 
hand of the Pope-King, but only the sceptre of justice and of 



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The Pope. 



law. No cries of a suffering and afflicted people surround him, 
but only the blessings of peace and of a delighted and consoled 
world. No blood follows, flowing in the path of his progress. 
That path is strewn with the tears of those who wept with joy 
at his approach, and with the flowers of peace and of content- 
ment. He used his power — and history bears me out when I 
say it — the power which was providentially put into his hands, 
by which he was made not only a king among kings, but the 
first recognized monarch in Christendom, and the king, highest 
among kings, and the man whose voice governed the kings of 
the earth, convened their councils, directed their course, re- 
proving them in their errors, and restraining them from shed- 
ding the blood of their people, and from the commission of 
other injustices — all these powers he used for the good of God's 
people. He used that power for a thousand years for pur- 
poses of clemency, of law, of justice, and of freedom. When 
Spain and Portugal, in the zenith of their power, each com- 
manding mighty armies, were about to draw the sword and de- 
vastate the fair plains of Castile and Andalusia, the pope came 
in and said, Mighty kings though you be, I will not permit 
you to shed the blood of your people in an unnecessary war." 
When Philip Augustus, of France, at the height of his power, 
and when he was the strongest king in Christendom, wished to 
repudiate his lawful wife and to take another one in her stead, 
the injured woman appealed to Rome, and from Rome came the 
voice of Rome's king, saying to him, " Oh, monarch, great and 
mighty as thou art, if thou doest this injustice to thy married 
wife, and scandalize the world by thine impurity, I will send the 
curse of God and of His Church upon you, and cut you off like 
a rotten branch from among the community of kings." When 
Henry VHP, of England, wished to put away from him the pure 
and high-minded and lawful mother of his children, because his 
licentious eyes had fallen upon a younger and fairer form than hers, 
the Pope of Rome said to him : If you commit this iniquity, if 
you repudiate your lawful wife, if you set up the principle that 
because you are a king you can violate the law, if no power in 
your own country is able to bring you to account for it, my hand 
will come down upon you, and I will cut you off from the com- 
munion of the faithful, and fling you, with the curse of God 
upon you, out upon the world." And I say that in such facts 



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299 



as these — and I might multiply them by the hundred — the pope 
of Rome used his temporal sovereignty and his kingly power 
among the nations in establishing the sacred cause of human 
liberty. I speak of human liberty. I thank my God that I am 
breathing an air in which a free man may speak the language of 
freedom. 

I have a right to speak of freedom, for I am the child of a 
race that for eight hundred years have been martyred in the 
sacred cause of freedom. Never did a people love it, since the 
world was created, as the children of Ireland, who enjoy it less 
than all the nations. I can speak this night, but rather with 
the faltering voice of an infant than with the full swelling tones 
of a man, for I have loved thee, O Mother Liberty. Thy fair 
face was veiled from mine eyes from the days of my childhood. 
I longed to see the glistening of thy pure eyes, O Liberty. I 
never saw it until I set my foot upon the soil of glorious young 
Columbia. And there, rising out of this great western ocean, 
like Aphrodite of old from the foam of the rolling billows, I be- 
held thee, goddess, in all thy beauty, and as a priest, as well as 
an L'ishman, I bow down to thee. But what is liberty ? Does 
it consist in every man having a right to do as he likes ? Why, 
if it does, it would remind one of the liberty that a man took 
with another in Ireland. He took the liberty to go into the 
man's house, and to sit down without being asked. And he 
took the liberty to make free with the victuals, and, at last, the 
man of the house was obliged to take the liberty of kicking him 
down-stairs. No, my friends, this is not liberty. The quint- 
essence of freedom lies not in the power of every man to do 
what he likes, but that quintessence of freedom and liberty lies 
in every man having his rights clearly defined. No matter who 
he is, from the first to the last, from the humblest to the highest 
in the community, let every man know^ his own rights. Let him 
know what power he has and what privileges. Give him ever}- 
reasonable freedom and liberty, and secure that to him by law, 
and then, when you have secured every man's rights and defined 
them by law, make every man in the State, from the highest to 
the lowest, from the president dow^n to the poorest, the greatest 
and the noblest, as well as the humblest and the meanest — let 
every man be obliged to bow down before the omnipotence of 
the law. A people that knows its rights, a people that has its 



300 



The Pope. 



rights thus defined, a people that is resolved to assert the omni- 
potence of those rights — that people can never be enslaved.- 
Now, is not this the definition of liberty? I am sure that it 
comes home like conviction to every man in this house. Let 
me know what rights I have, and let no man be allowed to 
infringe upon them. Give me every reasonable right, and when 
I have these, secure them to me, and keep away from me every 
man that dares to impede me in the exercise of them, that I may 
exercise them freely, and I then enjoy the glorious gift of free- 
dom. 

Now I ask you, Who is the father of this liberty that we enjoy 
to-day ? — who is the father of it, if not the man who stood be- 
tween the barbarian, coming down to waste, with fire and 
sword — to abolish the law% to abolish the government and 
destroy the people — the man that stood between him and the 
people and said: " Let us make laws, and you respect them, and 
I will get the people to respect them." That man was the Pope 
of Rome. Who was that man, that, for a thousand years, as a 
crowned monarch, was the very impersonation of the principle 
of law, but the pope ? Who was the man that was equally 
ready to crush the poor man and the rich man, the king and 
the people — to crush them by the weight of his authority when 
they violated that law and refused to recognize that palladium 
of human liberty? It was the Pope of Rome. Who was the 
man whose genius inspired and whose ability contributed to the 
foundation and the very institutions of the Italian republics and 
of the ancient liberties of Spain in the early middle ages ? Who 
was the man that protected them from the tyranny of the cruel, 
lawless barons, entrenched in their castles? He was the man 
wdiose house was a sanctuary for the weak and persecuted, who 
surrounded that house with all the censures and vengeance of 
the Church against any one who would violate its sanctity. 
W"ho labored, by degrees, patiently, for more than a thousand 
years, until he at length succeeded in elaborating the principles 
of modern freedom and modern society from out the chaotic 
ruin and confusion of these ages of barbarism ? Who was he ? 
— the father of civilization — the father of the world? History 
asserts, and asserts loudly, that he was the royal Pope of Rome. 
And now the gratitude of the world has been to shake his 
ancient and time-honored throne, and to pluck the kingly crown 



The Pope. 



301 



from his brow in his old age, after seventy years of usefulness 
and of glory, and to confine him a prisoner, practically, in the 
Vatican Palace in Rome. A prisoner, I say, practically, for how 
can he be considered other than a prisoner, who cannot go out 
of his palace into the streets of the city, without hearing the 
ribaldry, the profanity, the obscenity, and the blasphemy, to 
which his aged, pure, and virgin ears had never lent themselves 
for a moment of his life. Yes— he is unthroned, but not dis- 
honored ; uncrowned, but not dishonored ; not uncrowned by the 
wish of his own people, I assert, for I have lived for twelve 
years amidst them, and I know that he never oppressed them. 
He never drove them forth — the youth of his subjects — to be 
slaughtered on the battle-field, because he had some little enmity 
or jealousy against his fellow-monarch. He never loaded them 
with taxes nor oppressed them until life became too heavy to 
bear. Uncrowned indeed, but not dishonored, though we behold 
him seated in the desolate halls of the once glorious Vatican, 
abandoned by all human help, and by the sympathy of nearly 
all the world ! But upon those aged brows there rests a crown 
— a triple crown, that no human hand can ever pluck from his 
brow, because that crown has been set on that head by the hand 
of Jesus Christ and by His Church. That triple crown, my 
friends, is the crown of spiritual supremacy, the crown of infalli- 
bility, and the crown of perpetuity. In the day when Christ 
said to Peter, " Confirm thou thy brethren; feed My lambs and 
feed My sheep ; to thee do I give the keys of the kingdom of 
heaven " — in that day He made Peter supreme among the 
Apostles. His words meant this, or they meant nothing. 
Peter wielded that sceptre of supremacy, and nothing is more 
clearly pointed out in the subsequent inspired history of the 
Church, as recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, than the fact 
that when Peter spoke every other man. Apostle or otherwise, 
was silent, and accepted Peter's word as the last decision, from 
which there was no appeal. Never, in the Church of God, has 
Peter's succe^or ceased to assert broadly, emphatically, and 
practically this primacy. Never was a council convened in the 
Catholic Church except on the commands of the pope. Never 
did a council of bishops presume to sit down and deliberate 
upon matters of faith and morals except under the guidance and 
in the presence of the pope, either personally there, or there by 



302 



The Popi 



his officers or legates. Never was a letter read at the opening 
of any council — and they were constantly sent to each succeed- 
ing council — that the bishops of the Church did not rise" up and 
proclaim, "We hear the voice of the Pope, which is the voice 
of Peter, and Peter's voice is the echo of the voice of Jesus 
Christ." Never did any man in the Church of God presume to 
appeal from the tribunal of the pope, even to the Church in 
council, without having the taint of heresy affixed upon him, 
and the curse of disobedience and schism put upon him. 

Now, for centuries it has been the recognized principle of the 
Catholic Church that no man can lawfully appeal to any tribunal 
from the decision of the Pope in matters spiritual or in matters 
touching faith and morality, because there is no tribunal to 
appeal to above him save that of God. He represents, as the 
visible head of the Church, the invisible head, who is no other 
than Jesus Christ. The consequence is that the Church is a 
kingdom, like every other state, has its last grand tribunal, just 
like the House of Lords in England, the High Court of Justice 
at Washington, from which there is no appeal. What follows 
from this ? There is no appeal from the pope's decision. There 
never has been. Is the Church bound to abide by that decision? 
Most certainly, for history proves it in every age. Never has 
any man risen against the pope's decisions without being 
branded as one tainted with heresy, and cut off from the Church. 
Is the Church bound to abide by his decision ? Certainly, be- 
cause the Church is bound in obedience to her head, and one 
man alone can command the obedience of the Church and the 
duty of submission, and that man has been the Pope. He has 
always commanded it, and no one has dared to appeal from his 
decision, because, as I said before, he is the viceroy, the visible 
head of the church, and in whom, officially, is the voice of 
Jesus Christ present with His Church. 

Now what follows from this, my friends ? If it be true that 
the Church of God can never believe a lie, if it be true that she 
can never be called by a voice that she is bound to obey to 
accept a lie, if it be true that nothing false in cfbctrine or un- 
scjnd in morality can ever be received by the Church of God, 
or ever be imposed upon her — for He said, who founded her, 
" The gates of hell shall never prevail against My Church" — 
then it follows, that if there be no appeal from the pope's de- 



The Pope. 



303 



cision, but only submission on the part of the Church, it follows 
that the pope, when he speaks as the head of the Church, when 
he preaches to the whole Church, when he bears witness to the 
Church's belief and to the Church's morality, when he propounds 
certain doctrine to her — upon a body that can never believe a 
lie, that can never act upon a lie, whose destiny it is to remain 
pure in doctrine and in morality — pure as the Son of God who 
created her — it follows, that when the pope propounds that doc- 
trine to the Church, he cannot propound a lie to her, or force 
that lie upon her belief; that the same spirit of truth which 
preserves the body preserves the head, and that the pope, as 
head of the Church, is infallible. 

In other words, the pope may make a mistake. If he write 
a book as a private author, he may put something in it that is 
not true. If he propound certain theories unconnected with 
faith and morals, he may be as mistaken as you or I ; but the 
moment the pope stands up before the holy Church of God, and 
says, This is the Church's belief, this has been from the be- 
ginning her belief, this is her tradition, this is her truth," then 
he cannot, under such circumstances, teach the Catholic Church, 
the spouse of Jesus Christ, a lie. Consequently, he is infallible. 
I do not give the Church's infallibility as the intrinsic reason of 
papal infallibility, but I say this, that if any reasoning man ad- 
mits that Christ founded an infallible Church, it follows of 
necessity that he must admit an infallible head. It was but 
three or four days ago that I was disputing with a Unitarian 
minister, a man of intelligence and of deep learning, as clever a 
man, almost, as I ever met, and he said to me, " If I once ad- 
mitted that the Church was infallible, that she could not err, 
that moment I would have to admit the infallibility of the pope ; 
for how on earth can you imagine a Church that cannot err 
bound to believe a man that commands her to believe a lie ? 
It is impossible ; it is absurd upon the face of it." And so, my 
friends, it has ever been the belief and faith of the Catholic 
Church that the pope is preserved by the same spirit of truth 
that preserves the Church. But you will ask me, If this be 
the case, tell me how is it that it was only three or four years 
ago that the Church declared that the pope was infallible ?" I 
answer, that the Catholic Church cannot — it is not alone that 
she will not, but she cannot teach — anything new, anything un- 



304 



The Pope. 



heard of. She cannot find a truth, as it were, as a man would 
find a guinea under a stone. She cannot go looking for new 
ideas, and saying, ''Ah, I find this is new! Did you ever hear 
of it before ?" The Church cannot say that. She has, from the 
beginning, the full deposit of Catholic truth in her hand ; she 
has it in her instinct ; she has it in her mind ; but it is only now 
and then, when a sore emergency is put upon her and she can- 
not help it, that the Church of God declares this truth or that, 
or the other, which she has always believed to be a revelation 
of God, and crystallizes her faith and belief and tradition in the 
form of dogmatic definition. Which of us doubts that the very 
foundation of the Catholic Church rests upon the belief that 
Christ our Lord, the Redeemer, was the Son of God ? It is the 
very foundation-stone of Christianity. This has been the es- 
sence of all religion since the Son of God became man, and yet, 
my friends, for three hundred years the Catholic Church had not 
said a single word about the divinity of Christ, and it was after 
three hundred years when a man named Arius rose up and said, 
*' It is all a mistake ; the son of Mary is not the Son of God. 
He who suffered and died on the cross was not the Son of God, 
but a mere man." Then, after three hundred years, the Church 
turned around and said, " If any man says that Jesus Christ is 
not God, let that man be accursed as an infidel and a heretic." 
Would any of you say, " Then it seems that for three 
hundred years the Church did not believe it." She always 
believed it ; it was always her foundation-stone. " If she 
did believe it, why didn't she define it ?" I answer, the 
occasion had not arisen. It is only when some bold 
invader, when some proud, heretical man, when some bad 
spirit manifests itself among the people, that the Church 
is obliged to come out and say : Take care ! take care ! 
Remember this is the faith," and then when she declares 
her faith it becomes a dogmatic definition, and all Catho- 
lics are bound to bow to it. Need I tell you, Irish maids, Irish 
mothers, and Irish men — need I tell you how Patrick preached 
of the woman whom he called Muire Mathaire, '' Mary 
Mother," the woman whom he called the Virgin of God? 
Need I tell you that the Church always believed that that 
woman was the Mother of God? And yet you will be sur- 
prised to hear that at the time that Patrick preached to the Irish 



The Pope. 



305 



people the Church had not yet defined it as an article of faith. 
It was only in the fifth century that the Church at Ephesus de- 
clared dogmatically that Mary was the Mother of God. Didn't 
she believe it before ? Certainly. It was no new thing ; she 
always believed it, but there was no necessity to assert it until 
heretics denied it. Then, to guard her cliildren from the error 
which was being asserted, she had to define her faith. Did not 
the Church always believe the presence of Christ transubstan- 
tiated in the Eucharist ? Most certainly. All history tells us 
that she believed it. Her usages, her ceremonies, everything 
in her points to that Divine Presence as their life and centre, 
but it was sixteen hundred years before the Church defined 
transubstantiation as an article of faith, and then only because 
Calvin denied it. He was the first heretic to deny it. It was 
denied by Berengarius, a learned man in the thirteenth century, 
but he immediately repented, and burned his book, and there 
was an end of it ; but the first man to preach a denial of the 
real presence of Christ was Calvin. Luther never did. We 
must give the devil his due. The Church of God declared that 
Christ was present, and that the substance of bread and wine 
was changed into the body and blood of the Lord. And so in 
our day the Church for the first time found it necessary to de- 
clare that her head, her visible head, cannot teach her a lie. It 
seems such an outrage upon common sense to deny this, it 
seems so palpable and plain, from the very constitution of the 
Church, that it seems as if the definition of this dogma were 
unnecessary. Yet in truth it was to meet the proud, self-as- 
serting, cavilling, questioning spirit of our day that the Church 
was obliged to do this. It was because, guided by a wise 
Providence, and scarcely knowing, yet foreseeing that which 
was to come, that the Pope was to be deprived of all the pres- 
tige of his temporal power ; that all that surrounded him in 
Rome was to be lost to him for a time ; that perhaps it was his 
destiny to be driven out and exiled, and a stranger amongst 
other men on the face of the earth, so that he might be un- 
known, lost sight of, that the Church of God, with her eight 
hundred bishops, rising up in the strength of her guiding spirit, 
fixed upon the brow of her pontiff the seal of her faith in his 
infallibility, that wherever he goes, wherever he is found, what- 
ever misfortunes may be his lot, he will still have that seal 



3o6 



The Popi 



upon him which no other man can bear, and which is the stamp 
of the head of the CathoHc Church. 

And now, my friends, we come to the last circle of that 
spiritual tiara that rests upon the brow of Pius the Ninth. It 
is the crown of perpetuity. There is no man necessary in this 
world but one. We are here to-day, we die to-morrow, and 
others take our places. The kings of the earth are not neces- 
sary. Sometimes, Lord knows, it would be as well if they did 
not exist at all. The statesmen and philosophers of the earth 
are not necessar}'. My friends, the politicians of to-da}- are 
scarcely a necessity. We might manage, by a little engineering, 
and above all by a little more honesty, to get on without them, 
and find perhaps a few dollars more in our pockets. One man 
alone was necessarv to this world from the beo-innina;, and that 
one man was the man whom we behold upon the cross on Good- 
Friday morning — He alone. \\^ithout Him we were all lost ; no 
grace, but sin ; no purity, but corruption : no heaven, but hell. 
He was necessar}- from the beginning, and the only man that is 
* now necessary upon the earth is the man that represents Him. 
We cannot get on without him. The Church must have her 
head, and He who declared that the Church was to last unto 
the end of time will take good care to keep her head. He is 
under the hand of God ; and under the hand of the Ruler of 
the Church Ave may well afford to leave him. He will take 
good care of him. As a temporal ruler, I assert still that 
the pope is the only necessar}' ruler on the face of the earth. 
He is necessary, because, not establishing his power by the 
sword, not preserving it by the sword, not enlarging his do- 
minions by the SAVord, by injustice as a monarch ; as a king he 
represents the principle of right unprotected by might, and of 
justice and law, enthroned by the common consent of all the 
nations. 

In the day when might shall assume the place of right : in the 
day when a man cannot find two square feet of earth on which 
to build a throne, Avithout bloodshed and injustice ; in that day, 
Avhen it comes, the pope Avill no longer be necessary as a tem- 
poral sovereign ; but pray God, that before that day comes, you 
and I be in our graves, for when that day comes, if ever it comes, 
life Avill be no blessing, and existence upon this earth Avill be a 
curse rather than a joy. The pope is necessary, because some 



The Pope. ^q-j 

power is needed to stand between the kings and their people ; 
some power before which kings must bow down ; some voice 
recognized by them as the voice, not of a subject, not of an 
ordinary man, or an ordinary bishop, a voice as of a king 
amongst kings; some voice which will confound the jealousies, 
and passions, and scandals of the rulers of the earth, which only 
serve as so many means to shed the blood of the people. 

Our best security is the crown that rests upon the brow of a 
peaceful king. Our best security is the crown that rests upon 
the brow of a man who was always and ever ready to shield the 
weak from the powerful, and to save to woman her honor, her 
dignity, her place in the family, her maternity, from the treach- 
ery, and the villany, and the inconstancy of man ; to break the 
chains of the slave, and to prepare him before emancipation 
for the glorious gift of freedom. This power is the pope's, and 
he has exercised it honestly and well. Protestant historians 
will tell that the pope was the father of liberty, that he was the 
founder of modern civilization, and that the crown that was 
upon his head was the homage paid by the nations to clemency 
and mercy, and justice and law. And, therefore, he must come 
back ; he must come and seat himself upon the throne again. 
The day will come when all the Christians in the world will be 
desirous of this, and when that day comes, and not till then, 
justice shall be once more tempered by mercy; absolutism 
shall be once more neutralized by the constitutional liberties 
and privileges of the people. When that day comes, the people 
on their side will feel the strong yet quiet restraining hand, en- 
forcing the law ; while the kings, on their side, will behold once 
more the now hated and detested vision of the hand of the 
pontiff brandishing the thunders of the Vatican. 

That day must come, and with it will come the dawn of a 
better day, and of peace. And I believe, even now, in this 
future day, in this coming year, when we shall behold the Pope 
of Rome advancing at the head of all the rulers of the earth, 
and pointing out, with sceptred hand, the way of justice, of 
mercy, of truth, and of freedom ; we shall behold him when all 
the nations of the earth shall greet his return to power, shall 
greet his entry into the council-chambers of their sovereigns, 
even as the Jews greeted the entry of Jesus Christ into Jeru- 
salem, and hailed him king. I behold him, when, foremost 



3o8 



The Pope. 



among the nations that shall greet him in that hour, a sceptred 
monarch and crowned king, a ruler temporal, and, far more, a 
spiritual father, the mighty, the young, the glorious, and the 
free America will present herself. When this land, so mighty 
in its extent and the limits of its power that it cannot afford to 
be anything else than Catholic, — for no other faith can be com- 
mensurate with so mighty a nation — when this land, this 
glorious America, developing her resources, rising into that 
awful majesty of power, will shake the world and shape its 
destinies, will find every other religious garb too small and too 
miserable to cover her stately form, save the garb of the Catholic 
faith, and the Christian garment in which the Church of God will 
envelop her. And she, strong in her material power, strong in 
her mighty intelligence, strong in that might that will place her 
at the front of the nations, shall be the first to hail her pontiff, 
her father, and her king, and to establish him upon his mighty 
throne as the emblem and the centre of the faith and the 
glorious religion of a united people, whose strength — the strength 
of intellect, the strength of faith, the strength of material power 
— will raise up, before the eyes of a wondering and united world, 
a new vision of the recuperative power and majesty and great- 
ness of the Almighty God, as reflected in his Church. 



ON THE FIRST BEATITUDE. 



[Delivered at the Advent Conferences in the Catholic University, Dublin.] 
" Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven." 

E are come together to consider the things that regard 
our eternal interests — to consider what we owe to 
God, to our neighbor, and to ourselves. We meet to 
reflect on the Divine law, the reasons and the extent 
of its obligations, and our own fulfilment of them. 

In all this we have not to seek for the truth, but 
clroiks'?^^''''" only to reflect upon it, and apply it to ourselves. 

We have an infallible guide in truth — the Church 
— the pillar and the ground of truth. We are not forced, thank 
God, to fall back upon our own judgment, like those of whom 
St. Peter speaks, " blind and groping." But to you I say, in 
the words of the same Apostle, I will begin to put you in re- 
membrance of these things, though indeed you know them and 
are confirmed in the present truth ; but I think it meet to stir 
you up by putting you in remembrance." 

Not so with others, to whom an entrance has not been min- 
istered into " the everlasting kingdom of our Lord Jesus 
Christ." They are obliged to inquire into everything, to at- 
tempt to prove everything, even first principles and the mys- 
teries of revelation, and they are tempted to reject even the 
holiest truths of God, which are discussed before that most 
fallible tribunal — the reason of man. Of such, a great man 
formerly intimately connected with your university, complains, 
whilst yet a Protestant, in the introduction to one of his 
works. Unhappy is it," he says, that we should be obliged 
to discuss and defend what a Christian people were intended to 




310 



The First Beatitude. 



enjoy ; to appeal to their intellects instead of ' stirring up their 
pure mind, by way of admonition to direct them towards 
articles of faith which should be their place of starting, and to 
treat as mere conclusions, what in other ages have been as- 
sumed as first principles." Surely life is not long enough to 
prove everything which may be made the subject of proof ; and 
though inquiry is left partly open, in order to try our earnest- 
ness, yet it is in a great measure, and in the most important 
points, superseded by revelation, which discloses things which 
reason could not reach — saves us the labor of using it when* it 
might avail, and sanctions thereby the principle of dispensing 
it;" but he adds, ''We have succeeded in raising clouds 
which effectually hide the sun from us ; we have nothing left but 
to grope our way by reason as we best can — our necessary, be- 
cause now our only guide. . . . We have asserted our right 
of debating every truth, however sacred, however protected 
from scrutiny heretofore ; we have accounted that belief alone 
to be manly w^hich commenced in doubt, that inquiry alone 
philosophical which assumed no first principles, that religion 
alone rational which we have created for ourselves ;" and the 
end, my brethren, " loss of labor, division, and error have 
been the threefold gain of our self-will, as evidently visited in 
this world — not to follow it into the next." Such was the 
testimony of a singularly deep and candid mind, even before it 
was yet enlightened by the pure rays of divine truth. * But for 
us, we seek not to find out what is the truth. That we have 
already found. Our great Mother holds it, and propounds it, 
and we say to her in the words of the Apostle, '' I know whom 
I have believed, and I am certain that she is able to keep that 
which hath been committed unto her," {Scio cui crcdidi et cer- 
tus sum quia potens est deposition meiun servare.) the sacred 
deposit of all truth.' But we inquire, '* that we may be able to 
comprehend with all the saints, what is the breadth, and length, 
and height, and depth of that divine truth." To know also, 
" the charity of Christ, which surpasseth all knowledge," i. e., to 
pursue the truth into all the details of its practical teaching in 
the moral law, where our faith reveals itself in charity '' unto 
all the fulness of God." This is the great object of the Catho- 
lic preacher, after the example of our Divine Lord himself; for 
it is worthy of remark, that His first Sermon on the Mount, in 



The First Beatitude. 



which we might naturally expect an exposition of Christian 
dogma, was a moral sermon, sketching out the great features 
of the Christian character, by which His followers should be 
individually known amongst men to the end of time. Let us 
consider them : 

First — " Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the king- 
dom of heaven." 

The first word spoken by our Lord was, " Blessed." Much 
people followed Him," says the Evangelist, from Galilee, and 
from Decapolis, and from Jerusalem, and from beyond the 
Jordan, and seeing the multitude, He went up into a moun- 
tain;" this was His pulpit — befitting the preacher and His 
message. He was " the desired of the everlasting hills," and 
it was written, Get Thee up into a high mountain ; Thou 
that bringest good tidings to Sion ; lift up Thy voice. Thou that 
bringest good tidings to Jerusalem ; lift it up, fear not ; say to 
the cities of Juda, behold your God," and opening His mouth, 
He taught them. The mouth of God, closed for four thousand 
years, and when last it spoke, it was to curse the first sinner 
and the earth in his work, ''Cursed is the earth in thy work;" 
''the earth is infected;" (Isaias) "for the Lord hath spoken 
this word, .... therefore shall a curse devour the earth." 
Now, it w^as fitting that Christ's first word should be a revoking 
of this curse, for, as St. Paul loves to bring out. He was the 
antithesis of Adam. " As by the disobedience 

Christ, the An- r i • i 

tithe^i'of Adam man, many were made smners ; so also, 

by the obedience of one man, many shall be made 
just, . . . therefore, as by the offence of one, unto all men 
to condemnation ; so also, by the justice of one, unto all men 
to justification of life." And yet, if we look into the blessing, 
we shall find that the curse pronounced upon .the world is 
rather confirmed than revoked by it, for it says, " Blessed are 
the poor in spirit," /. Blessed are they who in some sense or 
other are alienated and separated from the world. 

Mark that Christ begins with the spirit. First. 
Why Christ be- bccausc " God is a spirit, and they that adore Him 

^ins with the r ' J 

bpirit. must adore Him in spirit and in truth." Hence, 

the Apostle says : " God is my witness, whom \ 
serve in my spirit." And secondly, because the spirit or seat 
of the affections is that portion of man's soul which guides and 



312 



The First Beatitude. 



influences all the action of his life. There are two great por- 
tions — divisions — powers — faculties in the soul of man : first, 
the apprehensive or intellectual ; and second, the affective or 
appetitive. To the first belongs the memory ; and the office of 
this first great portion of the soul is to apprehend and preserve 
ideas, and from them to form knowledge. The second great 
division of the soul, which we have called the spirit (for the very 
word snspirare signifies desire), contains the intellectual appetite 
or will, the affections and desires ; and as this will of man, which 
is led not only by the intellect but still more forcibly by the 
passions or desires, according to the saying of the poet, traJiit 
sua queinque zwluptas,'' determines his ever}^ act, for that act 
alone is human which proceeds from it, it follows that the por- 
tion of the soul which holds this will and these affections and 
desires is the source and spring of all moral life in man. Christ 
our Lord, therefore, began with the spirit, because He wished to 
change the face of the earth. Send forth Thy Spirit, and they 
shall be created, and Thou shalt renew the face of the earth." 
The Spirit of God was to go forth and to take the place of the 
human spirit, and Christianity was to effect this, that men should 
no longer be led by their own spirit — i. e., their own natural 
affections and desires — but by the Spirit of God. According to 
the word of the Apostle, Whosoever are led by the Spirit of 
God they are the sons of God," and thus they should " put on the 
Lord Jesus Christ ; for. if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, 
he is none of His." But to Christians he says, " Know you not 
that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God 
dwelleth in you?" Blessed, then says the Saviour, are the poor 
in spirit. Some commentators apply this word to those who 
are really poor, either by privation in the world or by the high 
voluntary poverty of holy religion which we find in the cloister. 
That the text bears such an application is abundantly proved 
from St. Luke, who adds in the context, Woe to you who are 
rich, for you have your consolation." Still, the text bears a 
much more extended application, and, therefore, others inter- 
pret poverty of spirit to mean humility, the foundation, and, at 
the same time, the crown of all virtues. This interpretation is 
also true, and the most adopted by the holy fathers. But we can 
find even more in this beatitude than the canonization of hu- 
mility. As it was the first feature of the Christian character 



The First Beatitude. 



313 



propounded by the Saviour, so, upon reflection, we find in this 
beatitude the first foundation of Christian Hfe — namely, Faith ; 
for truly the man who is poor in spirit means the man of faith. 
What is poverty? Poverty means privation — an emptiness — an 
absence of something — a casting away from us and a renuncia- 
tion of something. Poverty of spirit, then, would mean a cast- 
ing away of Hesires — affections — appetites — seeing that the spirit 
of man is the seat of all these. But does Almighty God demand 
of us a relinquishing of all affections and desires ? In other 
words, does He demand of us a destruction of this great portion 
of our being? Certainly not. God is not a destroyer, nor is 
destruction pleasing to Him. It is not, then, so much the de- 
struction as the transfer of our desires, hopes, affections, which 
Almighty God demands of us by poverty of spirit. There are 
two kinds of possessions — the temporal and the eternal — the visi- 
ble and the invisible — the things of the present and those of the 
future — the goods of sense and those of faith. Now, man is 
naturally inclined to seek the things of this world rather than 
those of the world to come. He depends so much upon his 
senses, even for the things which belong to the soul, such as 
knowledge and even faith ; he is so completely surrounded by 
sense that he is naturally inclined to rest in sense, to seek his 
happiness in the present enjoyment of sense, and to put away 
from him all consideration of future and unseen things. Much 
more are we unw^illing to make any sacrifice for the sake of the 
unseen — to relinquish the visible for the invisible — to deprive 
ourselves of present enjoyment because of blessings to come. 
We all love ourselves faithfully — intensely. We love ourselves 
better than anything else — better than our neighbor — than vir- 
tue — than God. 

Now, Christ our Lord, by redemption, made us the sons of 
God ; and he gave them power to become sons of God." As 
such we must be different from the old, the natural man, in 
spirit — i. e., in thoughts, in desires, in affections, in views, in con- 
duct. This the Apostle clearly points out when he says, "the 
first man was of the earth — earthly ; the second man from hea- 
ven — heavenly. Such as is the earthly such also are the earthly, 
and such as is the heavenly such also are they that are heavenly. 
Therefore, as we have borne the image of the earthly, let us bear 
also the image of the heavenly." But before we can thus put 



314 



The First Beatitude. 



on the image of the heavenly man, so as to be made conform- 
able to the Lord Jesus Christ — in a word, before we become 
Christians, we must cast away from us the old man, the human 
spirit, and hence poverty of spirit is the beginning, the founda- 
tion, of the Christian character. Faith is " the substance of 
things to be hoped for," consequently, future blessings ; the 
conviction of things that appear not," consequently, things not 
to be apprehended by the senses ; for, says the Apostle, " Per 
fidem ambulamus^ et non per speciemT The man of faitlf is he 
who has views and desires beyond and above this world and 
sense, who makes not the things of sense the last and great 
object of his wish'es and desires ; who uses not at all the things 
that are, when they cross or impede his eternal interest (in other 
words, when they are sinful), and in the things which he uses 
has something in view beyond what is seen, and makes all that 
is created subservient to the uncreated, all that is temporal con- 
ducive to that which is eternal, all that is of earth serviceable for 
that which is heavenly. Such is the man of faith. Oh, glorious 
man, like to the Son of God ! 



ON THE SECOND BEATITUDE. 



[Delivered at the Advent Conference in the Catholic University, Dublin.] 
" Blessed are the meek of heart, for they shall possess the land." 

HIS is the next feature of the Christian character 
brought out by our divine Lord. The Christian must 
be not only a man of faith — hving for divine purposes 
— influenced by supernatural motives — grasping at the 
invisible beneath the forms of things that appear ; but he must 
also be imbued with the virtue of meekness. Remember, gen- 
tlemen, that Christianity means perfection — the very perfection 
of man — of human nature in all its natural properties and pow- 
ers — and, far beyond this — the perfection of human nature in all 
the supernatural gifts of divine grace. Life, according to St. 
Thomas Aquinas, is spontaneous motion. There are two kinds 
of motion — one produced by something external or extrinsic 
to the thing moved — as when the powerful attraction of the 
sun moves the inanimate earth. The other is caused by some- 
thing internal or intrinsic, as when the human body is moved 
by the living soul or principle of motion within it. This St. 
Thomas calls intrinsic or spontaneous motion. If you reflect on 
the definition you will find it comprehensive and pertinent, for 
surely our idea of life is motion of some kind, and we naturally 
look upon perfect stillness as death. Now, all motion bears in 
its very essence the idea of a starting-point, of a point to be 
reached, and of an effort to pass from one to the other. Now, 
the Catholic Church teaches us that God is the starting-point of 
man — that God is the point to be attained by him, and that our 
Lord Jesus Christ — God made man — is the way, the form, the 
model, the means, to conduct him to his end. " I am Alpha and 
Omega — the beginning and the end;" He says, and elsewhere, 
I am the way, the truth, and the life ;" for, says the Apostle, 




3i6 



The Second Beatitude. 



there is but one God, and one Mediator between God and 
man, the man Jesus Christ." The Hfe thus proposed to us clear- 
ly involves all supernatural perfection of grace, for in Christ 
abode all the fullness of the divinity corporally." But, by an 
eternal law, that which is perfect in the highest order involves 
all the perfection of the lower ; therefore, in seeking to be made 
conformable to the image of the Son of God, we come by all 
that is most perfect in the order of nature, and thus ''godliness 
is profitable to all things, having promise of the life that now is, 
and of that which is to come." Let us see how far the virtue 
of meekness conduces to the natural and supernatural perfection 
of man. First, then, what is meekness? 

Meekness is the virtue or power by which the 
What 1= Meek- p^ggion of anger is so moderated and restrained as 
not to rise within us except when necessary and 
in the measure which is necessary. It is then, as you perceive, 
an exercise of power in the reason of man over the inferior ap- 
petites and powers of the soul. Man, as you know, is made up 
of body and soul — of matter and spirit — each with its own 
nature and its own powers — wonderfully united, and acting on 
each other in the one being. The soul has its own affections 
and desires, its own rational appetite, w^hich is the will, guided 
and influenced by reason. But as this soul is joined to a ma- 
terial body, and depends for its impressions upon sense, there is 
also a sensual appetite ; and depraved desire and passion in ex- 
cess assail the soul. These sensitive appetites manifest them- 
selves in two great master-passions in man, viz., concupiscence 
and anger ; concupiscence, which prompts us to seek that which is 
or which we conceive to be desirable — anger, which disturbs and 
excites the soul, when that which is desirable is removed, or 
when we are impeded in its pursuit. Here then is man — as far 
as we have to deal w^th him — made up of intellect, will, pas- 
sion of concupiscence and anger ; and, besides the theological 
virtues, which entirely regard the supernatural perfection of 
man, we have the cardinal virtues, which may be said to regard 
his natural perfection, and they affect these four powers or pas- 
sions ; for prudence is in the intellect, justice in the will, tem- 
perance regards the passion of concupiscence, and fortitude that 
of anger. The more these virtues govern and influence their 
respective powers, the more perfect is man, in the order of na- 



The Second Beatitude. 



317 



ture. It belongs to human virtue," says St. Thomas, " to make 
a man perfect by reducing his every act to the dominion of rea- 
son, which is done in three ways. 1st, The reason itself is 
rightly ordered, and this is done by the intellectual virtues or 
powers. 2d, Reason thus ordered or perfected becomes the 
guide and ruler of all human affairs, through the medium of the 
virtue of justice ; and, 3d, All impediments to such guidance or 
government of reason are removed, ist, by the virtue of tem- 
perance, which restrains the will when it is drawn aside in pur- 
suit of that which right reason forbids, and, 2d, by fortitude, 
which overcomes, by strength of mind and will, the difficulties 
that arise in the way of virtue, just as a man by strength and en- 
ergy of body conquers and repels all bodily difficulties." Thus 
we behold how all natural perfection in man consists in the per- 
fect and absolute dominion of a well-ordered reason or mind. 
Perfection means order, for, observes the Angelic Master, the per- 
fection and beauty of all creation consists in order. Now, our 
idea of order is that inferior things should be subject to things 
superior, and that what is supreme should govern all ; but as 
the intellect or reason is the supreme power in man, it follows 
that man's natural perfection must consist in the dominion of 
this reason over all the inferior powers of the soul and all the 
passions and inclinations of the man. 

Thus it was with the first man as he came from the hands of 
God — a perfect being. " God made man right," says the 
Preacher; and elsewhere, " He filled him with the knowledge of 
understanding, and He created in him the science of the spirit, 
and filled his heart with wisdom." In that happy time, before 
sin found its entrance into the newly-created world, all was per- 
fection, because all was order. The inferior animals and beings 
were perfectly subject to man. Let us make man," says the 
Lord, '*to our image and likeness, and let him have dominion 
over the fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the air, and the beasts, 
and the whole earth, and every creeping creature that moveth 
upon the earth." The senses, and all the inferior appetites in 
man himself, were under complete control of the will, which, in 
its turn was ruled by a reason that was in perfect subjection to 
God. But when this order was disturbed by sin — when man's 
reason and will refused their obedience to God — then the in- 
ferior appetites and passions, in their turn, refused to be subjcc*- 



3i8 



The Second Beatitude. 



to the reason, and the creation of God, and the stubborn earth 
itself, rebelled against man. In losing the supernatural gifts of 
grace and innocence, man lost also the very natural integrity 
and perfection of his being. Such was the connection between 
nature and grace, that when grace departed the integrity of 
nature was also lost, and humanity remained not only robbed 
and stripped of its divine clothing, but also mutilated and 
powerless. From all this it follows, first, that the passion which 
most directly and powerfully assails the dominion of reason — 
blinds it, overpowers it, casts it from its throne — is the greatest 
impediment to man's natural perfection. And, secondly, that 
the virtue or power which masters this passion — binds it down 
under the dominion of the mind, directs its energy, whilst it 
destroys its inordinate tendency — is the greatest safeguard of 
reason, and consequently most directly conducive to man's 
natural perfection. Now, gentlemen, that passion is anger, and 
that virtue is meekness. Well then may we conclude that Christ 
our Lord, in restoring t ) us the supernatural, and enabling us to 
acquire this virtue, has also given us back the integrity and natural 
perfection which Adam had lost. What is anger ? Anger is de- 
fined : An inordinate desire of revenge. The sen- 
What i? ABger ? sitivc appetite, excited, inflamed by injury, real or 
imaginary, acts upon the will, inclining and inducing 
it to desire of revenge. It is no longer reason guiding and direct- 
ing the will, but the sensitive appetite, /. e., an inferior power of the 
soul, directing a superior — consequently, an inversion of order. 
The very nature of anger is to act and desire without right 
reflection. Hence, nothing is more common than to plead anger 
as an excuse for irrational acts. We say, a man did such a 
thing under the great excitement of anger, consequently he can- 
not be held accountable — we must excuse him. Yes — excuse 
him ; but the very plea put forward in his defence shows how 
completely reason is destroyed, for the time being, by this 
passion, for, as the poet says, ira furor brevis esf — it is a tem- 
porary madness. We sometimes hear the phrase, maddened 
by anger ;" and the very law speaks of the murder committed in 
anger, as manslaughter — one animal slaughtering another. We 
never speak of a man as maddened by pride, maddened by lust 
— but maddened by anger. A man in anger is recognized as an 
unreasoning animal. He no longer answers to the definition of 



The Second Beatitude. 



319 



man, animal rationale^ In fact, if right reason were supposed 
to rule him, we should cease to look upon him as angry, for it 
is not the excitement, but the inordinate, unreasoning excess 
of it, amounting to perturbation of mind and subversion of 
reason, which constitutes the sin of anger. There is an excite- 
ment which has all the appearance of anger, and which even 
leads to terrible results, and yet is sinless, because under the 
control of a well-ordered mind. St. Chrysostom says : He 
that is angry without cause, sins ; but he who has sufficient 
cause, sins not. Nam si ira non fuerit nec doctrina proficit nec 
judicia staut — nec crimina compescunturr 

Such was the indignation of Moses, " the meekest of men." 
He saw an Egyptian strike one of the Hebrews, his brethren 
. . . he slew the Egyptian and hid him in the sand. And 
again, When he came nigh to the camp he saw the calf and 
the dances, and, being very angry, he threw the tables out of his 
hand and broke them at the foot of the mount . . . and 
standing in the gate of the camp he said : If any man be on the 
Lord's side let him join with me ; and all the sons of Levi gath- 
ered themselves together unto him, and he said to them. Thus 
saith the Lord, the God of Israel ; put every man his sword upon 
his thigh ; go and return from gate to gate through the midst 
of the camp, and let every man kill his brother and friend and 
neighbor. And the sons of Levi did according to the words of 
Moses, and there were slain that day about three and twenty 
thousand men." And yet what says the Holy Ghost ? " Moses 
was a man exceeding meek above all men that dwelt upon earth." 
Such again was the noble indignation of Mathathias . . . 

a priest of the sons of Joarib ; " for when ''there came a cer- 
tain Jew in the sight of all to sacrifice to the idols upon the 
altar in the city of Modin, according to the king's commandment. 
And Mathathias saw and was grieved, and his veins trembled, 
and his wrath was kindled according to the judgment of the iaiu, 
and running upon him he slew him upon the altar." We can 
go far higher for an illustration of the word of the Psalmist, 
'' Be ye angry and sin not." " And Jesus went up to Jerusalem ; 
and He found in the temple them that sold oxen and sheep and 
doves, and the changers of money sitting. And when He had 
made as it were a scourge of little cords. He drove them all out 
of the temple . . . and the money of the changers He poured 



^20 



The Second Beatitude. 



out, and the tables He o\-erthre\v." But in all these and the 
like examples, a high and perfect motive of reason governed 
and directed the acts ; as in Moses, the inspiration of God ; in 
Mathathias, the judgment of the law ;" and in our blessed Lord, 
a devouring zeal for the glory and honor of His Father's house. 
There is then, as you perceive, a good and a bad anger ; an 
anger justifiable and unjustifiable. Hence Aristotle says, " He 
is worthy of praise or of blame, who is sometimes angry." 
When is anger sinful, when is it not? It is sinful, first, when Ave 
desire vindication or revenge for its own sake, and not for the 
lawful end of correction of our neighbor ; or when we wish to 
see the innocent punished or to have excessive punishment in- 
flicted on the guilty ; or when we wish to subvert the legitimate 
order and course of justice ; in a word, when the desire is contrary 
to right reason. Secondly, anger is sinful when the motion or 
excitement is allowed to become too vehement, so as to be rage, 
either internal or external, for thus it takes the place of reason ; 
and St. Gregory the Great says, All care must be taken lest 
anger, which should be the handmaid of virtue, be allowed to 
predominate in the mind ; lest she should become mistress, who, 
like an obedient servant, should stand behind reason." But no 
passion more completely destroys reason, as we have seen, than 
inordinate and sinful anger; nay, more, it deforms even the ex- 
terior man, making him like to a demon ; hence St. John Chry- 
sostom says, Nothing is more frightful than the face of an in- 
furiated man ;" for, says St. Gregory, quoting indeed from Seneca, 
"The excited heart throbs — the body trembles — the senseless 
tongue pours forth incoherent words — the inflamed countenance 
fires with rage — the furious eyes sparkle again! " and, concludes 
the mild philosopher, " What must the angry soul be whose 
external image is so foul and deformed ! " 

If such be anger, how high and glorious must 
Glories of meek- '(^^X virtue be which conquers, moderates, and 

ness. ^ ' 

restrains it — which either represses it altogether, 
so as to preserve perfect peace of soul and body, or permits it 
to rise only as far as reason permits or demands, and thus makes 
a virtue of what may be so hideous a vice — and such is meek- 
ness. Many persons, particularly the young, look upon meek- 
ness as something unnecessary and superfluous — a virtue of the 
cloister, or of females, and of the old. And thus blinded and 



TJie Second Beatitude. 



321 



misled, they allow an evil, impetuous temper and passion to 
enslave them. And yet, surely, there is no virtue more manly 
or ennobling than that which enables a man to govern himself 
and his own passions. How can a man rule others who is un- 
able to rule himself? how can a man associate with others who 
is powerless and unable to live with his own soul in peace ? He 
truly is fitted to be an Anax Andron— a king of men — who has 
learned by meekness to keep the little kingdom of his own soul 
and body in the proper order of subjection to reason. Every 
virtue is a power — the very word virtue means power ; and what 
is more terrible in its power than meekness ? We admire the 
strength of Samson, quietly turning aside into the vineyard and 
tearing the lion as he would have torn a kid in pieces : far more 
wonderful is the strength of him who can seize the demon of 
anger, and chain him down as the archangel chained Lucifer. 
St. Thomas asks the question whether meekness be the greatest 
of moral virtues ? After some distinctions he answers : " In one 
sense, meekness has a peculiar excellence amongst the virtues ; 
for as anger, on account of its impetuosity and suddenness, 
deprives the soul (more than any other passion) of freedom and 
of the power of judgment, so meekness, which governs anger, 
preserves unto man (beyond all other virtues) the possession of 
himself;" hence Ecclesiasticus saith, My son, keep thy soul in 
meekness and give it honor according to its deserts. Who will 
justify him that sinneth against his own soul ? Wlio will honor 
him that dishonoreth his own soul?" How powerless is the 
angry man when he is confronted by one who holds his soul and 
his temper in meekness ! How futile was the rage of the Phar- 
isees and priests in presence of the meekness of Jesus Christ \ 
We have seen how far this virtue contributes to our natural 
perfection ; let us now consider its supernatural excellence. 
The perfection of man in the supernatural order of grace is to 
be made like to the Lord Jesus Christ, by grace here — by glor>- 
hereafter. " Those whom He foreknew and predestinated to 
be made conformable to the image of His Son, the same also 
He called, and whom He called the same also He justified, and 
whom He justified the same also He glorified." The resem- 
blance of grace here reveals itself in v^irtues, and foremost of 
these is meekness, because our divine Lord Himself puts it first, 
saying. Learn of Me, because I am meek and humble of heart." 



THE CHURCH. 




[Sermon delivered in the Church of Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome, on the Second 
Sunday of Advent, 1865.] 

Text. — The Epistle of the day, Romans xv. 4-13. 

AITH, as we have seen, is an absolute, firm, immuta- 
ble belief in all that God has revealed, of which the 
sole motive is the truthfulness of God. Being such, 
it must, of necessity, as we have seen, be simple, firm, 
universal, and courageous ; and in this day's sermon I engaged 
to prove that the Holy Roman Catholic Church was the only 
true messenger of God, in that in her only do we find these 
four essential qualities of true faith. 

But it may be asked. Where is the necessity of a Church at 
all ? Have we not the Scriptures, in which God has given us 
all that he has revealed ? What do you mean by a Church ? 
What are the duties and functions of a Church ? What grounds 
have you for calling on us to admit the existence and authority 
of such an institution ? All these questions must be answered 
before you say a single word on the peculiar claims or argu- 
ments of the Church Catholic. 

First. What is the definition of a Church? A Church is a 
living body or congregation, united together by a common be- 
lief in the same doctrines, by having the same rites and usages, 
and by admitting the same government and authority. These 
three are necessary in the very idea of a Church. A common 
belief, else there can be no real and interior union. The same 
rites and usages, else there can be no exterior union ; and one 
government and authority, without which no society, human or 
divine, can possibly exist. The definition of the Catholic 
Church is, " The congregation of all the faithful — believing the 



The Church. 



323 



same truths — having the same sacraments and sacrifices, and 
under one and the same visible head." 

Second. What are the duties and functions of a Church? 
They are, my brethren, principally to preserve unity of doctrine, 
that all be of one mind ;" holiness and purity of doctrine, that 
with one mind and one mouth all may glorify God ;" catholicity 
of doctrine, which means universality — by teaching " all truth," 
and to all peoples, to Jew and Geni:ile, in every clime, from the 
rising of the sun unto the going down thereof, making known 
the name of Jesus Christ, and apostolicity of doctrine, e., 
doctrine handed down from the Apostles in an unbroken chain, 
and guaranteed by their power and jurisdiction, equally and 
connectedly transmitted to their successors. The duties and 
functions of a Christian Church, if there be such an institution, 
are naturally and necessarily to teach men what to believe and 
what to do ; what to practise and what to avoid ; to prepare 
them for heaven and for God ; to make them in mind and in 
action. Christians — friends of God, and worthy to be admitted 
into His kingdom. 

Third. But it may be said. Where is the necessity of this 
Church, or living teaching authority, as you call it ? Have we 
not the written law and word of God, preserving His revealed 
word, and pointing out the path of holiness and salvation ;• in a 
word, doing the very things that you say fall within the duties 
and functions of the Church ? To this I answer. True, we 
have the written word of God. But no society is or ever has 
been founded on a written code, without a living authoritative 
voice to explain and enforce it. The written word does not 
explain itself. If left to itself, it is interpreted according to the 
different judgments, whims, caprices of its readers ; and being 
thus varied and changed, it practically ceases to be the voice of 
God, which is unchangeable — the way of salvation, which is one 
and not many — the rule of faith, which must be firm and authori- 
tative. God has, therefore, placed this written revealed word 
in the hands of the Church, lest " the unlearned and unstable 
wrest it to their own destruction." Again, although all that is 
in the Scriptures is revealed truth, still it is not the whole 
truth. It pleased Almighty God to reveal many truths to the 
Church, which are not found expressly stated in the Scriptures. 
Hence, although the written word is the principal portion of 



324 



TJie Church. 



the Christian's rule of faith, it is not all the rule. The true and 
entire rule of faith, is the word of God revealed — written and 
unwritten ; for we are told by the Apostle (2 Thess. ii. 14) that 
we must stand fast, and hold the traditions which we have 
learned, whether by word or by epistle," i. e., writing. All that 
is written in Scripture is good and true, profitable to teach, 
to reprove, to correct, to instruct in justice but nowhere in 
the Scriptures do we find a single word to justify us in assert- 
ing that the Bible alone is the rule of faith. The existence of 
the Christian Church, therefore, is a necessity. First, to preserve 
and interpret the written word, to teach men its true meaning, 
which is one, holy, unchangeable as the mind of God, which it 
expresses. Second, the Church is a necessity, to preserve and 
teach us the revelation which we have received, not by writing 
but by word ; to guard in all their purity those sacred traditions 
and truths which she received from her Lord and His Apostles, 
" which, if they were written, every one (says St. John), the 
world, itself, I think, would not be able to contain the books 
that should be written." For, as we are told in the Acts of the 
Apostles, our Lord continued " for forty days appearing to 
them and speaking of the Kingdom of God," whereby is meant 
the Holy Church. 

But if Ave had no other proof of the necessity of an authori- 
tative voice to explain the sacred text of Scripture, would not 
our own experience show us this necessity? Behold the num- 
berless opinions, and religious sects, and absurd systems of be- 
lief and practice which have sprung up wherever the voice of 
the Church is not heard and received. So great is their num- 
ber, so bitter their mutual hatred, so absurd their pretensions 
and practices, so miserably vain and narrow-minded their spirit, 
that they would bring Christianity into contempt, if they were 
not confronted by the True Church, the Mighty Catholic Mother 
of the faithful, who upholds, the divine word in all its un- 
changing majesty of truth, and in all its beauty of holiness. 

Having thus seen what a Church means, what are its duties 
and functions, and what its necessity, we come to the grand ques- 
tion, Is the existence of such a Church — One — Holy — Catholic 
— Apostolical — contemplated in Scripture, and where is she to be 
found ? I answer, that such a Church is clearly recognized in 
Scripture, and that she is to be found only in that congregation 



The Church. 



325 



which has never changed her faith nor failed in doctrine ; which 
teaches all righteousness, to the exclusion of the least sin ; 
which is to be found everywhere, and which can trace her power 
and jurisdiction to the Apostles ; that is, the Holy Roman 
Catholic Church. 

The unity of the Church is recognized in Scripture, for, says 
the Apostle, we have one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one 
God and Father of all ;" wherefore he commands them to pre- 
serve the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace. Here, St. 
Paul compares the oneness of faith to that of God, and as God 
is necessarily and essentially one, so faith is also one. And in 
the wonderfully beautiful and touching prayer of Jesus Christ 
for His Church, the first grace He asked of His Father was this 
unity. These things Jesus spoke, and lifting up His eyes to 
heaven He said, .... Holy Father, keep them in My 
name whom Thou hast given Me, that they may be one, as 
we also are. ... I have given them Thy word . . 
I have manifested Thy name to the men whom Thou hast 
given Me .... and they have kept Thy word. 
Sanctify them in truth. Thy word is truth. As Thou 
hast sent Me into the world, I also send them into the world. 
And for them do I sanctify Myself, that they also may be sanc- 
tified in truth. And not for them only do I pray, but for them 
also who through their word shall believe in Me. That they all 
may be one, as Thou, Father, in Me, and I in Thee, that they 
also may be one in us; that the world may believe that Thou 
hast sent Me. And the glory which Thou hast given Me, I 
have given to them, that they may be one, as we also are one." 
(John xvii.) Now, it cannot be argued that Christ here prayed 
only for the union of charity amongst all who profess Christian- 
ity, for He speaks of being one in truth — i. e., in faith. Else- 
where, the Apostle speaks of those who profess Christianity, and 
yet are to be shunned. " Now, I beseech you, brethren, to 
mark those who make dissensions and offences, contrary to the 
doctrines which you have learnt, and to avoid them," " for your 
obedience is published in every place. I rejoice, therefore, in 
you." Now, if we are told to avoid a man, how can we be said, 
to be one with him ? Nay, more, the Apostle, in the same 
place, calls those heretics who, by pleasing speeches and good 
words, seduce the hearts of the innocent" from the one doctrine, 



326 



The Church. 



Satan ; for he says, May the God of Peace crush Satan under 
your feet speedily." But are we to be one with Satan ? Cer- 
tainly not. Therefore, I conclude that, although we are to hate 
no one — nay, we are bound to love all men as our neighbor, 
even though they differ from us in faith — still, the charity 
which is to make us one with them in God must be founded in 
the truth — i.e.^ in the unity of the one true faith. Thus do we 
clearly see that the Church recognized in Scripture has the mark of 
unity set upon her, whereby men may know that she is from God. 

The next great feature of the Christian Church, recognized in 
Scripture, is holiness. Holiness is twofold — holiness of doc- 
trine, and holiness of life and practice. Both belong to the 
Church. Her teaching must be holy. Now, holiness of doc- 
trine means, first, the exclusion of all that is sinful, even in the 
least degree ; second, the inculcation and enforcing of all that 
is most perfect in holiness. The Church cannot tolerate, much 
less teach, the least thing that is sinful, for Christ, says the 
Apostle to the Ephesians, "loved the Church and delivered 
Himself up for it, that He might present it to Himself a glori- 
ous Church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any such thing, but 
that it should be holy and without blemish ;" as was written of 
this spouse of God, " Thou art all fair, oh, my beloved, and there 
is no stain in thee." The Church must not only be free from 
the least sinfulness in her doctrine, but she must also teach and 
inculcate all that is most perfect in holiness. " Be ye perfect, 
even as your Father in heaven is perfect ;" for, says the Apos- 
tle, We preach, admonishing every man, and teaching every 
man in all wisdom, that we may present every man perfect 
in Christ Jesus." (Col. i.) No feature, therefore, of holiness, can 
be neglected or put aside in the teaching of God's Church. But 
that which she teaches she must also exhibit in her life, for Christ 
our Lord describes her to us as the salt of the earth and the 
light of the world ;" and He continued : " A city seated on a 
mountain cannot be hid, neither do men light a candle and put 
it under a bushel, but upon a candlestick, that it may shine to all 
that are in the house. So let your light shine before men, that 
they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is 
in heaven," (Matt, v.) The mark of holiness must therefore be 
found, not only in the teaching of Christ's Church, but must be 
also found embodied in her life, cherished in her, and made a 



The Church. 



327 



part of her visible self. She must be not only the preacher of 
sanctity, but the mother of saints. All that is high and heroic 
and most perfect must not only find a place in her teaching, but 
must belong to her life and form her spirit. She must " minis- 
ter in her faith, virtue, and in virtue, knowledge, and in knov/1- 
edge, abstinence, and in abstinence, patience, and in patience, 
godliness, and in godliness, love of brotherhood, and in love of 
brotherhood, charity" — " in all manner of conversation holy, be- 
cause it is written, you shall be holy, for I am holy." (Peter, i, 16.) 
Thus do we behold how the Church of Christ must be holy in 
faith and in morals, in doctrine and in life. 

The Church contemplated in Scripture must, moreover, be 
universal. The Jewish Church was founded for a particular 
people ; it might be called a national Church — the Church of 
Israel. It, moreover, was not destined to last forever, but only 
for a time. The Church described by our Lord in the new law 
was a contrast to the Jewish Church in both these respects. It 
was to be universal as to place and perpetual as to time. Uni- 
versal as to place. Its doctrines were for all mankind. " And 
this Gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in the whole 
world, for a testimony to all nations." (Matt. xxiv. 14.) " And He 
said to them, Go ye into the whole world, and preach the 
gospel to every creature." (Mark xvi.) Behold, again, from 
St. Matthew, the Church's Catholicity — i. e., universality of 
doctrine : And Jesus spoke to them, saying. All power is 
given to Me in heaven and in earth. Going, therefore, teach ye 
all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of 
the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Teaching them to observe all 
things whatsoever I have commanded you. And behold, I am 
with you all days, even to the consummation of the world." In 
these words of Jesus Christ the Church is described as universal 
in place, in doctrine, and in time. 

Finally, the Church of Christ is described to us in Scripture as 
having power and jurisdiction. " As the Father sent me, so I 
send you," says Jesus Christ ; but the Father sent Him with 
power : the people were in admiration at His doctrine, for He 
was teaching them as one having power, and not as their Scribes 
and Pharisees ;" therefore He also sent His Apostles with power : 

and having called His twelve disciples together. He gave them 
power;" and St. Luke: "then calling together the twehe 



328 



The Church. 



Apostles, He gave them power and authority." And what 
manner of power did He give them? Even His own power. My 
brethren, the Son of Man hath power to forgive sin ;" and to 
them He said, Whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven ; 
and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained." But, my 
brethren, power and authority are commissions from God. They 
must, therefore, be transmitted by the act of those who have 
received them from God. There must, therefore, be in the 
Christian Church an actual, clear, living connection with the 
Apostles. The power w^hich the Son of God received from the 
Father, He gave to these Apostles for the salvation of men. It 
did not expire with these Apostles (else the work of salvation 
would have been interrupted and destroyed), but was handed 
down by them to their successors in the ministry, as wx gather 
from many parts of the Scripture (notably from St. Paul's first 
Epistle to Timothy, chapters iii. and iv.). It is, therefore, ab- 
solutely necessary that the men who exercise that power and 
jurisdiction to-day, be able to prove to us that they are the 
legitimate descendants of the Apostles ; that they come down 
from them in unbroken line, of succession uninterrupted, of 
doctrine unchanged, of power always exercised, and jurisdiction 
always claimed. If the line be broken, even in one single point, 
the hidden spirit, the sacramental power, is gone, even as the 
electric flash dies, and is lost forever, when the conducting wire 
is broken even in one smallest point ; if one link in the chain of 
apostolical succession be wanting, heaven and earth are separate 
once more ; the man who teaches and guides is only a vain pre- 
tender ; he who says that he can forgive sin is a blasphemer ; 

the silver cord is broken, and the golden fillet shrinks back 
. . . the dust returns into its earth whence it was," powerless 
for all healing and divine purposes; and the spirit," once so 
fully and freely poured out, "returns to the God who gave it." 

We thus clearly see that a Church, one^ holy, Catholic, and 
Apostolic, is contemplated, recognized, and described to us in 
the Scriptures. 



THE INCARNATION. 




[Sermon delivered in the Catholic University, Dublin, on the Fourth Sunday of 
Advent, 1864.] 

" And all flesh shall see the salvation of God." (Luke iii. 6.) 

HE salvation of which the EvangeHst speaks was ac- 
complished in the wonderful mystery of the Incarna- 
tion of the Son of God. For four thousand years the 
world was sitting in darkness and in the shadow of 
death. The hand of the Lord was not shortened that it could 
not save, neither was His ear heavy that it could not hear." 
" But your iniquities (said the prophet) have divided be- 
tween you and your God, and your sins have hid His face 
from you." And they looked for judgment, and there was 
none ; for salvation, and it was far from them. Meantime, the 
prophets sighed and prayed for the coming of Him who was the 
expectation of nations, and who should bring salvation. For 
Sion's sake I will not hold my peace, and for the sake of Jeru- 
salem I will not rest, till her Just One come forth as brightness, 

and her Saviour be lighted as a lamp Look down 

from heaven, O Lord," he continues, " and behold from Thy 
holy habitation and the place of Thy glory ; where is Thy zeal 
and Thy strength and the multitude of Thy mercies. . . 
Send forth, O Lord, the Lamb, the ruler of the earth . . 
to the mount of the daughter of Sion .... for Thou, 
O Lord, art our Father, our Redeem.er, from everlasting 
is Thy name." And when the fullness of the time was come, 
" God so loved the world as to give His only begotten 
Son,*' who for us men and for our salvation came down from 
heaven and was incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin 
Mary, and was made man. And this is the salvation which all 



330 



TJic I)icar)iation. 



flesh hath seen, for the Gentiles have walked in His light, and 
kings in the brightness of His rising. We are now. dearly 
beloved brethren, in the holy season of Advent, during which 
Holy Church prepares us by prayer and fasting for the coming 
of the Son of God made man. It is. therefore, fitting that we 
should, on this day. turn our minds to the consideration of the 
great myster}- which we commemorate — namely, the Incarnation 
of the Son of God. 

What is the fact commem.orated ? ^lan was created by Al- 
mighty God in rectitude, in innocence, in justice, and con- 
sequently in power. He was made little less than the angels ; 
he was crowned with honor and with glor}- : but he did not 
understand he was compared to senseless beasts, and made like 
to them. He fell from God. and lost ah the graces, the inno- 
cence, the justice in which he had been created. And in order 
to restore to him all that he had lost, to raise him up even 
higher than the point from which he had fallen. God becomes 
man. takes to Him our humanity, and unites it to Himself in 
His ov\-n divine person. The Second Person of the Blessed 
Trinity, the eternal and adorable Son. who. being in the form 
of God. thought it not robber}' to be equal with God. emptied 
Himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness 
of men, and in habit found as a man. He humbled Himself, 
becoming obedient unto death, even to the death of the cross." 

The invisible things of God are clearly seen, being understood 
by the things that are made." says the Apostle : and, concludes 
St. John Damascus, in the m}-stery of the Incarnation we clearly 
see the four great attributes of Almighty God — namely, goodness, 
wisdom, justice, and power. We behold in this myster}' the 
infinite goodness of Almight}* God. for He despised not the 
lowliness of His own creatures, though fallen, for He took 
humanity unto Himself. We see the justice of Almighty God, 
for as man had fallen under the power of the devil and sin and 
death, it was just that these tyrants should in their turn be 
crushed and conquered by a man. and this was done b}' the 
]\Ian. Jesus Christ, who cast out the devil, who took away the 
sin of the world, and who, b}' His death and resurrection, con- 
quered death, so that it can have no more dominion over Him. 
In the myster}' of the Incarnation, continues St. John, we dis- 
cern the supreme wisdom of Almight}- God. who. in His own 



The Incarnation. 



331 



person, paid in most fitting manner a debt which was infinite ; 
and finally, we behold in this mystery the power of God, for 
nothing can be greater than that God should become man. But 
not only do we see the divine attributes in the mystery of our 
Lord's Incarnation, but we find still further, that these very 
attributes are the reason why the mystery was accomplished. 
For when St. Thomas wishes to prove that it was fitting that 
God should become man, he grounds his argument on the infi- 
nite goodness of God ; for, says the Angelic Doctor, whatever 
belongs to the nature of any person or thing is fitting for it, 
as it is fitting that man should reason because it belongs to 
his nature. Now, it is in the very nature of goodness that it 
should communicate itself to others ; therefore it is the very 
nature of supreme goodness that it should communicate it- 
self in a supreme — that is, in a most intimate manner. But 
what communication can be more intimate than that which we 
find in our Lord's Incarnation, when, to use the words of St. 
Augustine, He so joined to Himself our created nature that 
one person was the union of three things — the Eternal Word, 
the human soul, and human flesh. Therefore, concludes the 
master, it was fitting that God should be made man. O Al- 
mighty God, infinite in mercy, in wisdom, in power, it is easy 
for us now to say it was fitting that Thou shouldst come to 
us, and that Thou shouldst raise us up to Thee ; but had not 
Thy mercy and Thine infinite love prompted Thee to do this, 
what mind could have conceived it as possible, what daring 
intelligence could have imagined it ? The Angelic Doctor goes 
on to ask, was it necessary that God should be made man ? 
To this St. Augustine answers, that certainly other means 
were not wanting by which the omnipotence of God might 
have restored our fallen humanity, but that no other means 
was so admirably suited to the end of healing our infirmity 
and misery as the Incarnation of the Son of God. When we 
consider what is required of man in order to his eternal happi- 
ness, we shall understand better this saying of St. Augustine. 
First, then. Almighty God demands of man faith, hope, and 
charity, for, says the Apostle, without faith it is impossible to 
please God," and elsewhere he says, for we are saved b}' hope," 
and again, " if I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, 
. . and if I should know all mysteries and all knowledge, . . 



33^ 



The Incarnation. 



and if I should deliver my body to be burned, and have not charity, 
it profiteth me nothing." Now, man is assisted in the exercise 
of these three necessary virtues by the Incarnation of the Son of 
God. First, in faith, for through this mystery God Himself comes 
to us, remains in the midst of us, and instructs us in our faith with 
His own words. Wherefore, St. Augustine observes, " in order 
that man might walk more confidently towards truth, the 
Eternal Truth Himself, taking our human nature, establishes in 
His own person and grounds our faith." In hope, which is 
raised up and strengthened by this mystery. Nothing was so 
necessary," says St. Augustine, in order to strengthen our 
hope, than that man should know how much God loved him ;" 
for this love and mercy of God is the groundwork of our hope. 
" But what greater sign of love could God give us than to take 
to Him our nature and espouse our humanity." And, therefore, 
when the same great father would assign the first great reason 
that moved Almighty God to this, he says that it was diarity — 
a charity not merely burning in the heart of our Creator, but a 
charity which would extend itself to our hearts also ; for, says 
the saint, what greater cause can be given for the coming of 
our Lord than that He should reveal His love in us." Man had 
become the slave of his senses, which led him away from God ; 
and behold, God, yearning for the love of this fallen creature, 
presents Himself to us in sensible shape, that we might be led 
to love Him. Man had filled his heart with the love of crea- 
tures, thereby forgetting God and salvation ; and behold God, 
longing for the possession of that heart of man, becomes a crea- 
ture, that so He might entice us to love Him. But, besides the 
three theological virtues, man required also to be instructed in 
moral virtues, and in order to this, God would give us His own 
infallible example, thereby to guide us in the fulfillment of the 
moral law and the precepts of virtue. Before His coming, man- 
kind was led away by the false maxims of an ungodly wisdom. 
They followed the schools and studied the lives of philosophers 
who, by word and example, set up a false standard of moral 
virtue, and who were as blind men leading the blind." They 
could not be followed with safety; their end was destruction." 
Man, says St. Augustine, was not to be followed, who could be 
seen and heard. God was to be followed, but he could not be 
seen. In order, then, that man might have one whom he could 



The Incarnation. 



333 



see and hear as man, and whom he could follow as God, the 
Lord God Himself became man." Oh, wonderful work of con- 
descending love and mercy ! 

But the love of God for man in the Lord's Incarnation does 
not stop here. By uniting our nature to Himself, He communi- 
cates to it the full participation of His divinity, which is the very 
supreme blessedness of man and the great end of human life ; 
so that, by the mystery of the Incarnation, we are made " par- 
takers of the divine nature," for, says St. Augustine, God be- 
came man, that man might become God ;" according to the 
words of the Psalmist, " I have said you are Gods." The ex- 
traordinary dignity thus conferred upon mankind, arises out of 
the hypostatical or personal union of our nature with the divine 
nature in Him. Man is made up of body and soul, and from 
the union of body and soul — of spirit and matter — results a 
human person. Now, our blessed Lord, in His Incarnation, took 
a human body and a human soul, with all their distinct faculties 
and powers ; and yet, from the union of these two elements 
there did not result a human person, as in the case of all other 
creatures, but at the moment of His divine conception, the Word 
— the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity — substituted His 
own divine person for the human ; so that, although there was a 
human body formed from the most pure blood of the Virgin 
Mother, and a human soul created by the breath of God — yet 
the fruit of Mary's womb v/as not a human but a divine person. 
Therefore is she truly the Mother of God, because the person who 
was born of her was divine. In our blessed Redeemer, then, 
we find all that is God and all that is man united in one person. 
Hence, there are in Him two natures — the human and the divine 
— two wills, the divine and the human — two relations, one the 
eternal, by which He is the Son of God — the other the temporal, 
by which He is the Son of the ever-blessed Virgin, and yet only 
one person. And as the actions and sufferings are attributed 
not to the nature but to the person, therefore the actions and 
sufferings of our Lord were of infinite value and merit, because 
the person who acted and suffered was divine. By this personal 
union God so united to Him our humanity as that He espoused 
it for ever, making it as it were a portion of Himself, never again 
to be separated from Him ; so that even when He died upon Cal- 
vary, although soul and body were separated for a time, yet the 



334 



The Incarnation. 



divinity and humanity remained united, and the angels of 
heaven adored their God, even when He hung dead upon the 
cross. And thus, as God and man united, will He come to judge 
the world, and thus, as God and man united in one person, will 
He reign in heaven for all eternity, Jesus Christ yesterday, 
and to-day, and the same forever." This most intimate union 
is the effect of God's infinite love for man. God is not satisfied 
with redeeming, but He will raise up and honor those whom He 
redeems. What is man, that Thou art mindful of him, or the 
son of man, that thou shouldst visit him," and the Lord God 
answers in the adorable mystery of the Incarnation, Man is 
something less than My angels — behold, I will make him the 
angels' king. Man has lost his throne in heaven — behold, I will 
place him on a throne above the cherubim. Man has become 
the slave of the devil — behold, I w411 make the devils bow down 
and adore him — I will be his Jesus, his Saviour, and at the 
name of Jesus, every knee shall bend in heaven, and on earth, 
and in hell. With the Lord there is mercy, and with Him plen- 
tiful redemption, so that where sin abounded, grace hath 
abounded still more. But in order to accomplish this mercy, 
see what it cost the Eternal Son of God. He emptied Him- 
self, taking the form of a servant." He, ''who, being the bright- 
ness of the Father's glory and the figure of His substance, up- 
holding all things by the word of His power ... sat on the 
right hand of the majesty on high," came down from that high 
throne — put away His glory — shrouded His brightness — anni- 
hilated His majesty — emptied Himself of His power, and be- 
came a servant, a slave — the last and lowliest of a fallen and 
degraded race. He to whom from all eternity the Father said, 
" Thou art My Son, to-day have I begotten Thee," becomes the 
son of an humble, obscure virgin, so that the Jews sneered at 
His teaching and said, '* Is not this the son of Joseph and of 
Mary? " He of whom it was said in heaven, '' Let all the angels 
of God adore Him," and "thy throne, O God, is for ever and 
ever," becomes as a worm of the earth, a castaway even amongst 
men, without a friend to cherish Him, or a place wherein to lay 
His head. (O God, exclaimed the prophet, who foresaw all this, 
"who hath believed our report, and to whom is the arm of 
the Lord revealed — for we have seen Him — despised and the 
most abject of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with in- 



The Incarnation. 



335 



lirmity." In the year that king Ozias died, says the prophet, " T 
saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and elevated ; and His 
train filled the temple. Upon it stood the seraphims ; the one 
* had six wings and the other had six wings ; with two they 
covered His face, and with two they covered His feet, and with 
two they flew. And they cried one to another and said. Holy, 
Holy, Holy, the Lord God of Hosts, all the earth is full of His 
glory. And the lintels of the doors were moved at the voice 
of them that cried, and the house was filled with smoke. And 
I said, woe is me because .... I have seen with my eyes 
the King, the Lord of Hosts." Now, Christians, behold in spirit 
the poor little trembling babe in the wretched stable at Bethlehem 
— behold upon Calvary the victim on the cross, despised and 
the most abject of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with 
infirmity. This is the King of heaven, the Lord God of Hosts, 
whom the prophet saw, and to this has his love for man reduced 
Him in the adorable mystery of His Incarnation. How then 
should we not love Him. How should we not deny ourselves 
for love of Him. How should we not for love of Him restrain 
our passions, extinguish the lusts of a rebellious flesh, and re- 
spect our bodies and the purity of that human nature which is 
now common to us and to our God, in which, by dishonoring 
ourselves, we outrage the infinite purity of Jesus Christ, and 
make the slave of passion, of sin, and of the devil, and of death, 
that humanity which now reigns in heaven, and which the angels 
of God adore. 



ACTIVITY OF FAITH. 



[Sermon delivered in the Church of Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome, on the Third 
Sunday of Lent, 1869.] 

HE Catholic Church is a puzzle to the world. Men 
reproach her for her ambition, in desiring the first place, 
and brooking no rival. Not content with laboring for 
her own children, she is constantly trying to convert 
others to her faith, and disturbing the world in her search after 
proselytes ; thrusting her theology and her disputes under 
people's noses, distracting men from their business, disturbing 
the peace and quiet of families, compromising Christian nations 
with the heathen by the efforts of her missionaries. She won't 
leave the Chinaman to smoke his opium in peace or the Japan- 
ese to hug himself in his isolation, but she must provoke them 
to acts of cruelty and persecution. She must be building 
churches, founding missions, establishing orders, spreading con- 
vents, fighting, disputing, criticizing, and even anathematizing. 
The world tries to silence and quiet her, now by contempt, now 
by threats, now by getting angry and making nasty laws, and 
yet she will persist in making herself heard and felt. Every 
now and then, an English or American paper will come out 
with a cry of alarm : Hallo ! where are we ? These Catholics 
are going to devour us. Look at England ! Ten years ago 
there were only so many bishops, so many churches, so many 
monasteries, and now they are doubled or trebled. Look at 
America ! Why, we are all going to be made Romans whether we 
will it or not, etc., etc. Contrast the Catholic Church's perpet- 
ual turmoil with the placid quiet of the Oriental Churches. Com- 
pare her fierce ambition with the modest bearing of the Church 
of England, etc. And turning from the Church to individuals. 




Activity of Faith. 



337 



the world complains that we Catholics are always at work, in- 
triguing as they say — disturbing. Look at these Jesuits — you 
find them everywhere ; we are constantl}^ offended by the sight 
of Catholic priests, Catholic books, Catholic crucifixes, Catholic 
nuns. Every one received into the Church seems to be suddenly 
changed and deteriorated, filled with an unquiet spirit, a long- 
ing, a thirst to bring in others. Such a man as a Protestant 
was a quiet, gentlemanly fellow, not bothering his own head or 
his friends about religion ; doing the genteel thing, going to 
church on Sunday ; but he got bitten by those ritualists, and 
he's gone over to Rome and gone regularly mad. He's con- 
stantly talking about religion, he goes to mass at strange hours 
in the morning, he can't get on without his priest, men say that 
he has lost interest in many things, and hint that he is thinking 
of joining one of the orders and going to get murdered in the 
Chinese missions, or to kill himself slaving in the slums and 
hospitals of some great city. On the other hand, we children 
of the Church, also, are struck with the amazing energy of our 
mother. We knoAv her to be the oldest institution in the world, 
yet we see in her no sign of old age. Old age means and brings 
with it a cessation of growth, a wasting away, a decline of 
strength, an apathy and neglect of the purposes of life, a second 
childhood. But the Church is acknowledged, even by her ene- 
mies, to be as fresh and vigorous as she was two thousand years 
ago. She still grows, and the aged mustard-tree puts forth leaf 
and branch, flower and fruit, in every land. She questions every 
comer, examines every doctrine, prescribes for every moral dis- 
ease, denounces and punishes every crime, with as keen an in- 
terest and as vital an energy as in the days when the Apostolic 
Council sat in Jerusalem, when John the Evangelist denounced 
Cerinthus, when Paul excommunicated the incestuous Corin- 
thian, when Peter preached in Corinth and in Rome. The secret 
of all this is faith, and it is to this that I invite your attention 
to-day. Friends admire and enemies decry the activity of the 
Catholic Church and of her children, but friends and enemies 
alike admit it. We are accused of many things, but no one 
dreams of accusing the Church of apathy, of indifference. Nay, 
our very activity is the foundation for those charges of ambition, 
of intrigue, of restless zeal, of troublesome intermeddling, etc., 
which are made against us; and yet, if we reflect upon the nature 

22 



338 



Activity of Faith. 



of divine faith, we shall find that this very activity is one of its 
essential attributes, one of the signs whereby it may be known 
to exist amongst men. For, nqy brethren, faith, as we have seen, 
is the image of God, the reflection in the intelligence of man of 
that truth which is God himself. And consequently, faith must 
not only be one, as we have seen, because God is essentially One, 
but it must also be active, because God is pure, essential, and 
eternal action. God is pure action. Dcus est actus piiriis,'' 
says St. Thomas, the prince of Catholic theologians. This is a 
high and mysterious saying. Let us consider it. In every being 
created we find elements of composition or division, but God is 
simple, essential, and eternal unity. Of creatures, the angels 
come nearest to God, in that they are pure spirits, and yet even 
in the angels we find power as distinguished and separated from 
action. They received the power or capability of loving before 
they loved, the power of comprehension before they compre- 
hended, etc. But as God is eternal and all perfect, therefore 
He never began to comprehend or to love, as His very essence 
and existence is comprehension and love. He never received 
nor could receive any perfection, as He was from eternity all 
perfect, and so the very nature and essence of God brings with 
it of necessity that He is pure action. What an idea does not 
this give us of the greatness, the infinite perfection of God. 

From eternity and of old before the earth was made," before 
the heavens were established, before the angels were created, 
during an eternity that had never begun, God, alone, was never 
for a moment idle or inactive, but ever contemplating, ever lov- 
• ing, infinitely glorified in His own perfection, infinitely happy in 
the contemplation of Himself. 

And when time began with things created, mark how the 
Almighty God set the stamp on all things of that essential life 
and action which is His own essence. From the angels down 
to the humblest form of things that exist, the whole creation 
teems with motion and life. The planets, the sea, the earth — 
all moves and lives with its own peculiar life — for motion, spon- 
taneous, is the very definition of life. Whatever moves spon- 
taneously is said to live ; but there are many degrees in life, and 
the more the motion of life is ruled and governed by intelli- 
gence, the nearer does that life approach to the essential life, 
which is God ; and so of things on this earth, the life of man is 



Activity of Faith. 



339 



the highest and the most Godhke, in that man beyond ah other 
beings here, is moved and guided by intellect and the freedom 
of his will. But, if we are able to perceive so clearly, even in 
the natural order, and in the universal motion and action of 
things material, the reflection of that pure essential action, 
which is the life of God, how much more may we not look for 
this element of activity, when we pass to the supernatural order, 
and come still nearer to God. When we consider man no 
longer in his mere natural resemblance, but in the far higher 
and more intimate resemblance of divine grace ; when we 
look upon the human intelligence, no longer quickened to vital 
intellectual action by natural knowledge only^ but urged and 
impelled by the supernatural knowledge of all divine things, 
brought into immediate contact with that divine intelligence, 
which is an eternal and pure act of comprehension, and in that 
contact of faith made like to God, who is action itself ; here, 
indeed, may we look for and hope to find in man an element of 
strength, of endurance, of progress, and untiring action, as far 
beyond the mere life and motion of nature as the strong light 
of faith is beyond all mere natural knowledge, as the resem- 
blance of grace is beyond that of nature. To sum up then, the 
life of God is one eternal, essential, pure, active intelligence. 
All that lives, moves, and acts (for life is motion and action) so 
far participates of the essential life of God. Man is said to live 
with a most perfect life, because intellectual, and so nearer to 
God in resemblance. Man again is capable of receiving a far 
higher degree of intellectual resemblance to the divine life of 
God by faith, which brings him into closest union of intelli- 
gence with his Maker ; and so we conclude that if God be pure 
action, actus purus, if approach to God by resemblance of life 
be action, if the nearer we approach to God, the more do we 
share in the life which is essential action, that virtue which 
brings us to the highest resemblance with God, the Father of 
light and intelligence, must also be an element of the highest 
activity in man, and that virtue is faith. When, therefore, men 
acknowledge the untiring energy of the Catholic Church when 
they reproach her for that very zeal and energy, disguising it under 
the names of ambition, of restlessness, of a spirit of intermeddling, 
etc., they unconsciously proclaim the note of a divine life in- 
fused into the Church by faith. The Catholic Church is the 



340 



Activity of Faith. 



congregation of all the faithful. She must, therefore, reflect 
their united life. But the Apostle tells us that the just man 
lives by faith, i. c, faith is the principle of his supernatural 
life, the root of justification, c7'go, the faith is the life of the 
Church. But as the definition of life is motion, and the proof 
of life is action, it follows that the faith which is the Church's 
life must ever move her forward, and prove its existence by con- 
stant and powerful action on the world. And unto this did 
Jesus Christ institute His Church, and place her in this world, 
that she might " go forth unto her work and to her labor until 
the evening." That she might toil and " bear the burden of 
the day and the heat," still energetically doing the work of 
Him who sent her, after His own divine example, who said, 
" the Father worketh even until now, and I work." And the 
Church's work in this world is nothing more than the con- 
tinuation of Christ's own life and work. She must preach and 
teach at all times, in season and out of season," for He 
was teaching daily in the temple," and He commanded her to 
" teach all nations and to preach the Gospel to every creature." 
And so the Church, which sent the Apostles and their succes- 
sors to the ends of the earth, sends forth her preachers and mis- 
sionaries as vigorously to-day as she did in the days of old, 
when Thomas, the Apostle, penetrated to farthest India, when 
Paul disputed at Athens, when Dionysius, the Areopagite, con- 
verted the Northern Gauls, later on, when Patrick brought the 
word to a land which the all-conquering Roman had never 
seen, when the children of Patrick spread the faith amongst 
the islands of the northern seas, preached the Gospel to the 
wild sons of the German forests, brought back into Italy itself, 
the land whence they had received their Apostle, new forms of 
Christian holiness and grace. The Church is as vigorous to- 
day as when she sent Augustine to England, as when St. Hya- 
cinth penetrated into the fastnesses of Red Russia and Tartary, 
as when her missionaries followed in the wake of the discov- 
erers of another world, crossing the trackless and unknown 
ocean to gain souls to Christ. Every land has heard her voice, 
and hears it still, in omnium terram'' etc. She has been at all 
times persecuted, she is persecuted everywhere to-day. Fiercely 
persecuted, robbed, plundered, proscribed, put to death, in 
Russia, in Sweden, Denmark, Norway, in many parts of Ger- 



Activity of Faith. 



341 



many, in Italy, Spain, Portugal, in China and Japan, in Mexico 
and Sofith America ; fettered by unjust laws or barely toler- 
ated in England, Ireland, France, Austria, Prussia, Turkey, 
North America. The whole world is against her, yet it cannot 
silence the voice which Christ commanded to speak, and to 
speak loudly, unto the end of all time. In times past her mis- 
sionaries landed on the shores of persecuting England, only to 
encounter certain imprisonment, exile, or death. To-day the 
same missionaries are thrown upon the coast of China or Japan, 
to plant the mustard-seed, if only in one heart, and then die 
and fertilize it with their blood. And how strange that the 
nations should fear one so weak, whose only shield is faith, 
whose only weapon is the sword of the spirit, which is the 
word of God ;" should fear her, and yet take from her mouth 
the w^ord of faith which she preaches, and which is so opposed 
to the natural instincts and passions of man. For the Church 
will not conceal nor soften down nor modify one iota of her 
message of truth. She cannot compromise with any age or 
people, no matter what she lose or gain. Christ, our Lord, 
might have got on much better with the Scribes and Pharisees, 
if He winked at their sins and was silent. Had He been a false 
prophet, He would have done so, as Balaam did with Balac, the 
son of Sephor. Or He would have escaped the furious jealousy 
of Herod, the timorous fears of Pilate, had He denied His 
kingly dignity or concealed it. The people would not have 
taken up stones to cast at Him, had He compromised the asser- 
tion of His divinity. So, in like manner, the Church w^ould 
have avoided much persecution if she compromised with Con- 
stantius or other Greek emperors the question of consubstan- 
tiality, with Paleologus the question of images, if she ceded to 
Russia the question of the primacy, if she had permitted to 
Frederick of Germany the right of investitute, or had winked 
at the adultery of Henry the Eighth of England. 

The second feature of Christ's w^ork, and evidence of the life 
that was in Him, was the virtue that went out from Him unto 
all, healing both soul and body, virtus de illo cxibat ct sanabat 
oinnesy Instance the paralytic man : Thy sins are forgiven 
thee," ''take up thy bed and walk." 

And here again we behold the energy of unfailing life in the 
Holy Catholic Church. In the administration of the seven sac- 



342 



Activity of Faith. 



raments, she is ever seeking to purify, to save, to sanctify 
sotiety and the individual. As her zeal for the preaching of 
the faith is stirred up in her, from her knowledge of its neces- 
sity, so her untiring zeal in the ministration of the sacra- 
ments arises out of her knowledge of the necessity of divine 
grace. 

For truly these are the two great wants of our age — faith and 
divine grace. Our age abounds in learning, well diffused, and 
science brought home to the people through a thousand chan- 
nels. But learning and science are not faith, and the sin of our 
age lies in failing to see that no knowledge, however extended 
or profound, can be incompatible w^ith the simple obedient bow- 
ing down of the intelligence to divine truth and to the voice of 
its messenger. Faith is the queen of all science : in the loftiness 
of its object, which is God ; in the certainty of its knowledge, 
which rests on the truth of God ; in the manner of acquiring it, 
which is by gift and revelation of God ; and yet the studious 
man of our day who spends his life in the pursuit of truth, re- 
jects the primary truth of all, and, imposing upon his intellect a 
burden which it was never intended or designed to bear, seeks 
to arrive by reason at that which can only be attained by listen- 
ing to the voice of authority, the true knowledge of God and of 
all that He has revealed to man. A man who would not think 
of appealing to his reason, but to authority, to prove the exist- 
ence of China and the manners and customs of the Chinese, 
must, forsooth, repudiate authority and appeal only to his reason 
to discover and to prove the things of heaven and the dealings 
of x\lmighty God. But faith comes by hearing, and hearing 
by the word of God," and, therefore, the Catholic Church will 
speak " in season and out of season " the word by which alone 
men can be saved, the word which she alone possesses, the 
word of God, the word of faith which we preach." She asks no 
man to believe her until she has proved her mission, for how 
shall they preach unless they be sent ?" That mission she proves 
by tracing in an unbroken chain of doctrine and jurisdiction the 
power she possesses to-day up to the day when the hands of 
Christ were upon the head of Peter. Not a single link in that 
chain is wanting; and the preacher and teacher in the Catholic 
Church is sent by Pius, who is of Gregory, who was of Pius, 
who was of Leo, and so on from one to another until we say 



Activity of Faith. 



343 



who was of Clement, who was of Cletus, who was of Linus, who 
was of Peter, who was of Christ, who was of God. 

It is no self-commissioned pretender whose voice we hear 
when we listen to the words of the Catholic Church. Mission 
is the test of authority, and that mission the Catholic Church 
alone possesses and can prove. What wonder, then, that her 
voice should be ever heard, since it is her destiny to lift up that 
voice to instruct and warn men and nations. What wonder 
that with an energy which the world calls restlessness and 
ambition, but which we know to be inseparable from divine life, 
she addresses herself to us on all questions of faith and morality, 
and will permit no man to be lost until she has wearied him 
with her importunities to be saved. With the same constancy 
and energy with which she appeals to those without to be en- 
lightened, does she appeal to her own children to be sanctified. 
To every Catholic sinner she cries without ceasing, " Return to 
the Lord thy God," ''Confess thy sins and give glory to God," 
" Come and eat of the bread and drink of the wine which I have 
mixed for you." Her priests are constantly in her confessionals 
and on her altars. The burden of her message is, " Arise and 
^valk as children of the light ;" and if her own children refuse to 
hearken to the voice of the sanctifier, they are as far from salva- 
tion as the man in the outer darkness who refuses the light, and 
they, the children of the kingdom, shall behold strangers entering 
in and sitting down with Abraham and Isaac and the prophets, 
whilst they shall be cast into outer darkness, where shall be 
weeping and gnashing of teeth. Oh, my beloved, to you I say 
" that have obtained equal faith with us ... . employing 
all care, minister in your faith virtue, and in virtue knowledge, 
and in knowledge abstinence, and in abstinence patience, and in 
patience godliness, and in godliness love of brotherhood, and in 
love of brotherhood charity. For if these things be with you 
and abound, they will make you to be neither empty nor un- 
fruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ." 



MUSIC IN CATHOLIC WORSHIP. 



[Sermon preached at the opening of an organ in the church of Our Lady the 
Star of the Sea, Dublin, on Sunday, September 4th, 1859.] 

HE Holy Father tells us that the good Samaritan, 
mentioned in this day's Gospel, is a figure of Jesus 
Christ, the Redeemer, the Restorer, the Comforter ; and 
the poor wounded man whom He found by the way- 
side signifies our human nature, which He came to heal, and 
which he found by the way-side robbed and despoiled of its 
highest gifts, lying prostrate after its fall, and unable to rise, 
wounded and bleeding from the effects of sin, and dying the^ 
death which knew no hope of future joy, but only opened upon 
eternal sorrow. And our Lord Jesus Christ bent Him down 
over this wounded man, and approached near to him, when He 
took upon Himself our nature. He examined the wounds and 
bound them up, pouring in wine and oil, and thus giving com- 
fort, and infusing new life and strength through the very wounds 
themselves, from which man's life-blood had been flowing. 
He touched the heart ; He restored strength and animation to 
the soul ; He gave back life, by applying Himself to the body- 
nay, more, to those very parts of the body which were most 
deeply wounded. Thus the wounds which before were the 
cause of death, become now the occasion of life ; they, from 
which the heart's blood was flowing away, are now made the 
channels through which the life-restoring wine and oil are 
received ; and man is saved by means of the very wounds 
through which he was lost. There is a mystery in all this. It 
is not without reason that the holy fathers so unanimo'usly 
apply to our blessed Redeemer the parable of " The Good 
Samaritan." They saw in this parable a faithful representation 




Music in CatJiolic WorsJiip. 



345 



of God's dealing with man in the great work of redemption. 
For, my brethren, man fell from God by means of his senses ; 
he preferred the pleasures of sense and sensible things to God's 
holy law ; and when Almighty God punished man for his sin — 
depriving him of original grace and innocence — the curse fell 
largely upon those very senses which rebelled against reason, 
which became man's greatest obstacle and curse, leading him 
away from the service, and even the knowledge of the true God, 
and plunging him into every abyss of crime and error. Man's 
sense was changed. The eye of unfallen man was pure, and 
they were both naked, to wit, Adam and his wife, and were 
not ashamed." He looked upon the face of God and conversed 
with Him. The ear of unfallen man rejoiced at hearing the 
voice of God, and listened with rapture to the harmonious music 
of the angels in the groves of Eden ; but after his fall he said to 
the Lord, " I heard thy voice, and I was afraid." And in 
course of time, still led away by the senses, " they changed the 
glory of the incorruptible God into the likeness of the image 
of corruptible man, and of birds, and of fourfooted beasts, and 
of creeping things ;" and this because God had delivered them 
up to reprobate sense." Man's senses, then, were the great open 
wounds through which his soul was destroyed, and his true life 
taken away. But when the Lord Jesus came — the Good Sama- 
ritan — He poured the oil and wine of His grace into man's 
soul through those very senses ; He applied Himself to the 
wounds of man ; and, therefore, faith, which is the root of justi- 
fication, comes by hearing ; and sacramental grace, by which 
alone we can be saved, is infused into the soul by the external 
agency of sensible things. The very nature of man requires 
this ; for such is the intimate moral union of soul and body in 
man, that it is impossible to reach the soul save through the 
senses of the body ; if you wish to influence the mind of man, 
and touch his heart either for good or evil, you must appeal to 
his bodily senses. God Himself respects His own divine dispo- 
sition in this regard, making the senses the ordinary channels of 
His highest graces ; and the Church of God — the only true inter- 
preter of His will — whose mission it is to raise fallen man up to 
God, to purify and to preserve his soul, and to make him perfect 
by charity, makes use of everything that strikes and captivates 
the senses, in order, thereby, to reach man's soul, to touch his 



Music ill Catholic Worship. 



heart, and to offer to God the homage of the entire creature, as 
well of the body as of the soul. This will explain to us why 
the Catholic Church uses so much of external grandeur in her 
ceremonies. The lights and ornaments of the altar, the vest- 
ments of the priests, the smoke of incense, the pealing notes of 
the organ, the lofty dome, the graceful arch, the pictures and 
statues — all these things are intended by the Church as means 
whereby to reach the hearts and souls of her children, by in- 
structing, ennobling, touching, and captivating their senses. 
Now, the mission of the Church in this world is to win man to 
God ; in order to do this she must take him as he is, and treat 
him according to his nature, leading him up from natural things 
to supernatural — from sensible things to spiritual — from the 
things that are made to the invisible things of God, and to a 
knowledge of His eternal power and divinity." She must 
turn to God all the powers of man's soul, all the affections of 
his heart ; and therefore she seizes upon all that is beautiful in 
this world, and makes it subservient to this great end. Hence, 
the fine arts have always found their most generous protection, 
as they found their highest inspiration, in the Catholic Church. 
Painting and sculpture were exclusively hers until the heretical 
spirit of the sixth century turned them to the sinful service of 
this world, and then they fell, nor found in their wretched 
imitations of Paganism anything that could make up to them 
for the fair Christianity which they had abandoned. But paint- 
ing and sculpture, after all, can hardly be called the offspring of 
the Church, though she consecrated, refined, and exalted them. 
They flourished in ancient times, and Greece and Rome beheld 
them in all their glory. But there is another of the fine arts 
which God seems to have consecrated in a peculiar manner to 
the services of the sanctuary, and w^hich may be said to be 
especially the child of the Church, and this is music. Thus we 
read, that when King David brought the ark of God into the 
city of Sion, "he spoke to the chiefs of the Levites to appoint 
some oT their brethren to be singers, with musical instruments 
— to wit, on psalteries, and harps, and cymbals, that the joyful 
noise might resound on high ;" and, again, when Solomon con- 
secrated the temple, we are told how the Levites, with their 
sons and their brethren, sounded with cymbals, and psalteries, 
and harps, and with them one hundred and twenty priests 



Music ill Catholic WorsJiip. 



M7 



sounding with trumpets ; so when they all sounded together, 
both with trumpets, and voice, and cymbals, and organs, and 
with divers kinds of musical instruments, and lifted up their 
voice on high, the sound was heard afar off, so that when they 
began to praise the Lord, and to say, ' Give glory to the Lord, 
for He is good, for His mercy endureth for ever;' the house of 
God was filled with a cloud." And so for succeeding ages the 
sound of cymbal and organ, and the voice of the singers, was 
heard in the great temple of Jerusalem ; but when temple and 
nation were alike destroyed, and the sorrowful Jeremias wept 
over their ruin, this was the burthen of his song; ''The 
ancients have ceased from the gates, the young men from the 
choir of the singers ; therefore is our heart sorrowful, therefore 
are our eyes become dim." And when the Church, the great 
civilizer of the world, came to build up society, and to restore 
civilization upon the ruins of the times and things which had 
passed away, she found amongst the relics of ancient society 
masterpieces of painting, sculpture, and architecture, but of 
their music they had left us nothing save a dim and obscure 
tradition. But as music is pre-eminently the science of the soul, 
Christianity, which opened to man's soul its proper object, 
thereby exalting and enlarging the soul, soon awoke the inspira- 
tion of music, and in the dim catacombs strains were heard 
which ravished with delight even Pagan ears, for, whilst organs 
pealed, Cecilia's angelic voice was heard, and they sang to the 
Lord a new canticle, and His praise was in the Church of the 
saints. And when persecution had ceased, and the Church had 
come forth from the catacombs to spread herself over the earth, 
new foi'ms of beauty appeared in all the arts, and Christian 
music was so sweet as to penetrate, as St. Augustine relates of 
himself, the hearts, and move the souls of its hearers. But a 
great revolution was at hand. Millions of barbarians swept 
down from the North of Europe and Asia, destroying all before 
them. They swept away the last vestiges of ancient Paganism 
and ancient civilization, and there was only one power able to 
resist them, and finally to absorb them into itself — and that was 
the Christian Church, which converted and civilized them. In 
those days of ruin and calamity the arts and sciences, as well as 
ancient literature, were saved by the Church ; they took refuge 
in her bosom, and for a thousand years they found a home in 



34S 



Music in Catholic Worship. 



her cloisters. Then the painter, and the architect, and the 
musician, as well as the profound scholar and man of letters, 
were all centred in the monk. Then did Pope St. Gregory, 
himself a monk, produce those plaintive, yet majestic chants, 
which bear his name ; then did the loud hosanna roll through 
the long-drawn aisles w^hich the architect brothers had built, and 
the full tide of sacred song swelled through those wonderful 
mediaeval churches and cloisters, whose very ivied ruins still 
command our admiration, and move us to tears. And there the 
tired Crusader, exhausted after his Eastern wars, would refresh 
his soul with holy song, and at the midnight hour would come 
the proud, fierce baron to matins, and there hearken to the 
tender notes of the organ, so skillfully touched by the Benedic- 
tine's hand, till, in the very depths of his soul, he would be 
moved to the humility of Christian sorrow and the heroism of 
Christian forgiveness. Thus far, music, in the hands of the 
Church, was turned to its highest and holiest end ; but when, in 
the sixteenth century, the heretical spirit of the age encroached 
upon the domain of the Church, this noble science was also de- 
based, and directed to other and inferior purposes. It received 
many great developments, it is true, but they were all for this 
world, and not for God. The cymbal and harp were no longer 
used only to kindle in men's souls high and holy emotions ; the 
sweetness of the human voice sang no longer exclusively of God ; 
the music of earth ceased to be the echo of the harmony of 
heaven ; and mere pleasure of sense, and the kindling of human 
passion and bad desire, and the celebration of worldly great- 
ness, and often the representation of sin and shame, has become 
the end and aim of this noble and heaven-born art. All the 
power of music has remained, but it has become worldly, and, 
therefore, is penetrated with the curse wherewith the world was 
cursed. It is, at the present day, one of the most powerful in- 
struments in the hands of the devil to lead souls into the dis- 
sipation and vanity of this wielded world. But, amid all this 
evil, there is one musical instrument which remained faithful to 
its grand calling, nor lent itself to the frivolities, and that, 
indeed, the prince of musical instruments of modern times — and 
this is the organ.- Of all other instruments the organ was (if I 
may use the phrase) bom in the Church, and for Church pur- 
poses ; and from its very formation, and the solemnity of its 



Music in CatJiolic WorsJiip. 



349 



beaut}', the world has not been able to tear it from the sanctuary. 
It disdains to lend itself to the world's light-polish purposes ; its 
voice is not heard in the gilded theatre or bright saloon ; but 
its grand, inspiring notes mingle now, as of old, with the prayer 
and the sacrifice, and are borne up toward heaven with the 
smoke of incense and the aspirations of religious love. And as 
music, more than any other sensible thing, touches the heart, 
and inspires and raises up the soul, the organ is a most necessary 
and indispensable appendage to the Catholic Church. For the 
great object of Catholic worship is to absorb the entire man, 
body and soul, mind and affections, and to bring him into the 
presence of God. Jesus Christ is really and corporally present, 
and therefore we prostrate not only our minds but also our 
bodies before Him. Then the great organ, so varied, yet so 
harmonious, is symbolical of the mystic body of Christ, i. e., the 
faithful. The organ is made up of a multitude of different notes, 
of pipes and of stops — each varying one with another, yet all 
blending into one sweet and solemn harmony ; and so the 
Catholic congregation is made up of a multitude of Christians, 
differing each from the other in thoughts, in tastes, in condition 
of life ; in their views and worldly aspirations ; in age, in man- 
ner ; yet from all these varied elements there arises one solemn 
act of worship, as they blend together in the union of faith, and 
in the unanimous voice of praise. They enter the church, bring- 
ing their worldly cares and distractions with them ; the young, fill- 
ed with thoughts of the vanities with which they are surrounded, 
and which appear to them so true and pleasing ; the old, groaning 
under their infirmities, and absorbed in themselves ; the rich, with 
thoughts perhaps of ambition, or how they may acquire still more ; 
the poor, with discontented hearts and impatient reflections on 
their daily wants ; and so they kneel before the altar. And now 
music is heard, and the soft high notes of the organ float in the 
air like the breathing of angels, and steal into the distracted 
ears and hearts of those around, powerfully, yet almost insen- 
sibly, gathering in their wandering thoughts ; and the music 
swells, and increasing in its strength, filling the holy house until 
the very air trembles, and men's hearts beat quicker, and heads 
are bent down, and tears flow, and hearts and souls are moved ; 
and cares, and distractions, and misery, and self are forgotten ; 
and the glorious organ has done its work well, for now all are 



350 



Music in Catholic Worship. 



absorbed in the presence of the living God. I have not in this 
exaggerated the power of instrumental music as a means for 
moving the soul and bringing it into the presence of God. For, 
my dearly-beloved brethren, there is a strange and powerful 
connection between the human soul and music. As the soul is 
a spirit, and music, of all the beauties or pleasures of sense, ap- 
proaches nearest to the conditions of pure spirit, it may be said 
to be the language of the soul ; it is soonest and most understood 
by the soul ; it calms the troubled soul — soothing its peace and 
enhancing its joy. Thus we find that when Saul, the King 
of Israel, was troubled by the evil spirit, David took his harp 
and played with his hand, and Saul was refreshed, and was 
better, for the evil spirit departed from him." St. Hildegarde, 
whose prophecies and visions are approved of by the Church, 
speaking of the human soul, says, the soul is a harmony." 
And surely the soul of man, as it came first from the hands of 
God, resembles a beautiful musical instrument upon which God 
Himself breathed, that it might return to Him here a continual 
hymn of praise, until its voice should be united in heaven to 
that of the angels ; for the Scriptures and the holy fathers love to 
describe the kingdom of heaven as the mansion of everlasting 
harmony and song of joy ; where the souls of the virgins sing 
a new canticle to the Lamb ;" where the souls of the just, made 
perfect, ever sing, " Holy, holy, holy, to the Lord God of Sab- 
aoth ;" and where, from the throne of God, proceed ravishing 
sc*unds, and the very atmosphere is music. ''I saw," says St. 
Hildegarde, in the vision which she calls " the Symphony of 
the Virgin Mary," I saw a very pure atmosphere, in which I 
heard a ravishing harmony of musical sounds ; harmonies of joy 
from on high, concords of different voices, concerts of souls 
which are vigorously persevering in the love of truth." When 
St. Mary Magdalen had retired into the desert, she heard every 
day, for forty years, the angelic voices pouring out the richness 
of their harmony in hymns to God. And when the most glorious 
soul of the Queen of Heaven had quitted this earth, the Apostles 
who watched at her grave heard, for three days and three nights, 
the voice of the angelic host, and when the music had ceased 
they opened the tomb, but the virgin body was not there, it 
was already seated upon the highest throne in heaven after 
God's, whither the immaculate one was borne, amidst trium- 



Music in Catholic WorsJiip. 



phant songs of the nine choirs of angels. And "The morning 
stars praised the Lord together, and all the sons of God made 
a joyful melody." We gather from Scripture that the angels 
express their joy in song. ''And when He had opened the 
book, the four living creatures, and the four-and-twenty ancients 
fell down before the Lamb, and they sung a new canticle ; and 
I beheld, and I heard the voice of many angels round about the 
throne." And again, when at the birth of Christ the angel 
announced tidings of great joy, there was heard a multitude of 
the angelic host, and they sang, "Glory be to God on high." 
Music, then, is the expression of angelic joy. But if there be 
the melody of joy amongst the angels in heaven for one sinner 
doing penance, and entering into the kingdom of God, what 
must have been the song when the Refuge of Sinners — when 
she, through whom all sinners are saved, entered therein. If 
for the least of Christ's little ones hymns of glory are sung, and 
heaven resounds with praise, what must have been the melody 
when the Queen of Angels — the first, the highest, the purest, 
the holiest of all creatures, was assumed, body and soul, into 
eternal bliss, and heaven first beheld her glory who was to be 
its Queen for ever. Mary quitted this earth for God ; Mary 
took her departure, accompanied by angels, who filled the air 
with music ; and as she passed the angel of every bright star in 
the firmament and the angels of the sun and moon paid her 
homage, rejoiced, and gave glory to God, and swelled the tide 
of heavenly song, " and the morning stars praised the Lord to- 
gether, and all the sons of God made a joyful melody," until 
the vaults of heaven rang again with their shouting, as the 
Mother of Jesus met her Son, never, never again to be parted 
from Him. The Apostles caught but a faint echo of the heav- 
enly music, yet their souls were ravished with joy. O Mary, re- 
splendent pearl, the pure light of heaven is poured into thee. 
We come to-day in thine own house to offer thee the tribute of 
our praise, and the instrument which will never sound, but for 
thy Son and for thee. Bless us, O most pure and brilliant 
Queen, and bless this our offering. May its music be to us as 
the voice of the angels who bore thee to heaven ; ever raising 
our thoughts to thee, O Star of our pilgrimage, and to the 
glories of thy Eternal Son, to whom be honor, praise, and glory, 
for ever and ever. 




CATHOLIC EDUCATION. 



[Lecture delivered in St. Peter's Church, Barclay Street, New York, on Thursday 
evening, May 23d, 1872.] 

PROPOSE to speak to you, my dear friends, this 
evening, on the question of " Catholic Education." 
My attention was attracted this morning to a notice 
in one of the leading papers of this city, in which the 
writer warned me, that if I was not able to find a solution for 
this difficult question of education, which would be acceptable 
to all classes, I might please my co-religionists, but that I could 
not please the public. Whilst I am grateful to the writer of that 
article, or to any one else that gives me advice, I have to tell 
you, my friends, and the writer of that notice, and everybody 
else, that I am not come to this country, nor have I put on this 
habit, to please either the public or my co-religionists, but to 
announce the truth of God, "in the name of His holy Church. 
He who accepts it, and believes it, and acts upon it, shall be 
saved: he that does not choose to believe, Christ, our Lord, 
Himself says, shall be condemned. God help us ! God pity the 
people whose religious teachers have to try and please their co- 
religionists and the public ! Great Lord ! how terrible it is when 
the spirit of farce and of unreality finds its way, even into the 
mind of the man who is to proclaim the truth by which alone 
his fellow-men and himself can be saved. But it was remarked, 
and truly, in the same article, that this is one of the most — 
perhaps, f/ie most — important questions of the day." No doubt 
it is. I don't suppose I could have a more important theme for 
the subject of my thoughts, or of my words, than that of educa- 
tion. This is a question that comes home to every man amongst 
us. No man can close his mind against it. No man can shut 




CatJiolic Education. 



353 



it out from his thoughts. No man in the community can fold 
his arms and say, " This is a question which does not concern 
me, consequently, upon which I am indifferent." No : and 
why ? Because every man amongst us is obHged to Hve in 
society ; that is to say, in inter-communion with his fellow-men. 
Every man's happiness or misery depends, in a large degree, 
upon the state of society in which he lives. If the associations 
that surround us are good, and holy, and pure ; if our children 
are obedient, if our servants are honest, if our friends are loyal, 
and our neighbors are peaceable, if the persons who supply us 
w^ith the necessaries of life are reliable — how far all these things 
go to smooth away all the difficulties, and annoyances, and 
anxieties of life ! And yet, all this depends mostly upon educa- 
tion. If, on the other hand, our children are rude, disobedient, and 
willful ; if those around us be dishonest, so that we must be con- 
stantly on our guard against them ; if our friends be false, so 
that we know not upon whose word to rely ; if everything we 
use and take to clothe ourselves be bad, and adulterated, or 
poisonous — how miserable all this makes life ! And yet, these 
issues, I say again, depend mainly upon education. Therefore, 
it is a question that comes home to every man, and from which 
no man can excuse himself, or plead indifference or unconcern. 

Now, first of all, my friends, consider that the greatest mis- 
fortune that Almighty God can let fall upon any man is the 
curse of utter ignorance, or want of education. The Holy Ghost, 
in the Scriptures, expressly tells us that this absence of knowl- 
edge, this absence of instruction and education, is the greatest 
curse that can fall upon a man ; because it not only unfits him 
for his duties to God, and for the fellowship of the elect of God, 
and for every Godlike and eternal purpose, but it also unfits 
him for the society of his human kind ; and therefore, the Scrip- 
ture says so emphatically — Man, when he was in honor " (that 
is to say, created in honor,) 'Most his knowledge." He had no 
knowledge. What followed ? He was compared to senseless 
beasts and made like to them. What is it that distinguishes 
man from the brute ? Is it the strength of limb ? No ! Is it 
gracefulness of form ? No ! Is it acute sensations — a sense of 
superior sight, or a more intense and acute sense of hearing? 
No ! In all these things many of the beasts that roam the forest 
exceed us. We have not the swiftness of the stag ; we have 



354 



Catholic Education. 



not the strength of the lion ; we have not the beautiful grace of 
the antelope of the desert ; we have not the power to soar into 
the upper air, like the eagle, who lifts himself upon strong pin- 
ions and gazes on the sun. We have not the keen sense of 
sight of many animals, nor the keen sense of hearing of others. 
In what, then, lies the difference and the superiority of man ? 
Oh, my dear friends, it lies in the intelligence, that can know, 
and the heart, which, guided by that intelligence, is influenced 
to love for intellectual motives, and in the will, which is sup- 
posed to preserve its freedom by acting under the dominion of 
that enlightened intellect and mind. For, mark you, it is not 
the mere power of knowing that distinguishes man from the 
brutes, and brings him to the perfection of his nature. It is the 
actual presence of knowledge. It is not the mere power of lov- 
ing that distinguishes man from the lower creatures. No. For 
if that love be excited by mere sensuality, by the mere appeal 
to the senses, it is not the high human love of man, but it is the 
mere lust of desire and passion of the brute. It is not the will 
that distinguishes man in the nobility of his nature from the 
brute ; but it is the will, preserving its freedom, keeping itself 
free from the slavery and dominion of brute passions, and 
answering quickly — heroically — to every dictate of the high and 
holy and enlightened intelligence that is in man. What follows 
from this ? It follows that if you deprive him of intelligence or 
knowledge, if you leave him in utter ignorance and withdraw 
education, you thereby starve, and, as far as you can, annihilate 
the very highest portion of the soul of man ; you thereby dwarf 
all his spiritual powers ; you thereby leave that soul, which was 
created to grow, and to wax strong, and to be developed by 
knowledge — you leave it in the imbecility and the helplessness 
of its natural, intellectual, and spiritual infancy. What follows 
from this? It follows that the uneducated, uninstructed, igno- 
rant, dwarfed individual is incapable of influencing the affections 
of the heart with any of the higher motives of love. It follows 
that if that heart of man is ever to love it will not love upon the 
dictate of the intelligence, guiding it to an intellectual object, 
but, like the brute beast of the field, it will seek the gratification 
of all its desires upon the mere brutal, corporeal evidence of its 
senses. What follows moreover? It follows that the will which 
was created by the Almighty God in freedom, and which, by the 



CatJiolic Education. 



very composition of man's nature, was destined to exercise that 
freedom under tlie dictate of intelligence, is now left without its 
proper ruler, an intelligent, instructed intellect ; and, therefore, 
in the uninstructed man the allegiance of the will — and its 
dominion — is transferred to the passions, desires, depraved in- 
clinations of man's lower nature. And so we see that in the 
purely and utterly uninstructed man there can be no loftiness 
of thought, no real purity of affection, nor can there be an}* 
real intellectual action of the will of man. Therefore, I con- 
clude that the greatest curse Almighty God can let fall upon a 
man is the curse of utter ignorance, unfitting him thereby for 
every purpose of God and every purpose of society. 

First, then, my dear friends, I assert that want of education, 
or ignorance, unfits a man for his position, no matter how 
humble it be, in this world and in society. For all human 
society exists amongst men, and not amongst inferior animals, 
because of the existence in men of intelligence. All human 
society or intercourse is based upon intellectual communication, 
thought meeting thought ; intellectual sympathy corresponding 
with the sympathy of others. But the man w^ho is utterly un 
instructed ; the man who has never been taught to write or to 
read ; the man who has never been taught to exercise any act 
of his intelligence ; the poor, neglected child that we see about our 
streets — growing up without receiving any word of instruction 
— grows up, rises to manhood, utterly unfit to communicate with 
his fellow-men, for he is utterly unprepared for that intercom- 
munion of intelligence and intellect which is the function of 
society. What follows? He cannot be an obedient citizen, 
because he cannot even apprehend in his mind the idea of law. 
He cannot be a prosperous citizen, because he can never turn 
to any kind of labor which would require the slightest mental 
effort. In other words, he cannot labor as a man. He is con- 
demned by his intellectual imbecility to labor merely with his 
hands. Mere brute force distinguishes his labor : and the 
moment you reduce a man to the degree and amount of mere 
corpDreal strength, the moment you remove from his labor 
the application of intellect, that moment he is put in competi- 
tion with the beasts : and they are stronger than he : therefore 
he is inferior to them. Take the utterly uninstructed man : he 
it is that is the enemy of society. He cannot meet his fellow- 



356 



Catholic Education. 



men in an\' kind of intellectual intercommunion. He is shut 
out from all that the past tells him in the history of the world ; 
from all the high present interests that are pressing around him ; 
from all his future he is shut out by his utter destitution of all 
religious education as well as civil. What follows from this ? 
Isolated as he is — flung back upon his solitary self — no human- 
izing touch ; no gentle impulse ; no softening remembrance even 
of sorrow or trouble ; no aspiration for something better than 
the present moment ; no remorse for sin ; no consolation in 
pain ; no relief in affliction ; nothing of all this remains to him : 
an isolated, solitary man, such as you or I might be, if in one 
moment, by God's visitation, all that we have ever learned 
should be wiped out of our minds ; all our past lost to us ; all 
the hopes of the future cut off from us ; such is the ignorant 
man; and such society recognizes him to be. If there be a man 
who makes the State, and the Government of the State, to 
tremble, it is the thoroughly uninstructed and uneducated man ; 
it is the class neglected in early youth, and cast aside ; and utter- 
ly uninstructed and undeveloped in their souls, in their hearts, 
and in their intellects. It is this class that, from time to time, 
comes to the surface, in some wild revolution, swarming forth 
in the streets of London, or the streets of Paris, or in the 
streets of the great continental cities of Europe ; swarming 
forth, no one knows from whence ; coming forth from their 
cellars ; coming forth from out the dark places of the city ; with 
iviTy unreasoning in their eyes, and the cries of demons upon 
their lips. These are the men that have dyed their hands red 
in the best blood of Europe, whether it came from the throne or 
the altar. It is the thoroughly uninstructed, uneducated, 
neglected child of society that rises in God's vengeance against 
the world and the society that neglected him, and pays them 
back with bitter interest for the neglect of his soul in his early 
youth. Therefore it is, that statesmen and philosophers cry out, 
in this our day, " We must educate the people." And the great 
cry is, Education. Quite true, and right ! 

And if the world demands education, much more does the 
Catholic Church. She is the true mother, not merely of the 
masses, as they are called, but of each and every individual soul 
amongst them. She it is to whose hands God has committed 
the eternal interests of man, and, therefore, it is with a zeal far 



CatJiolic Education. 



357 



greater than that of the world the CathoUc Church appHcs her- 
self to the subject and question of education. Why so ? Because 
if, as we have seen, all human society is based upon knowledge, 
upon intercommunion of intellect — of which the uninstructed 
man is incapable — the society which is called the Church — the 
supernatural and divine society — is also much more emphatically 
founded upon the principles of knowledge. What is the founda- 
tion, the bond, the link, the life and soul of the Catholic 
Church ? I answer — faith. Faith in God. Faith in every 
word that God has revealed. Faith, stronger than any human 
principle of belief, opinion, or conviction. Faith, not only bow- 
ing down before God, but apprehending what God speaks ; 
clasping that truth to the mind, and informing the intelligence 
with its light ; admitting it as a moral influence into every 
action and every motive of a man's life. It is the soul and life 
of the Catholic Church. Faith ! What is faith ? It is an act 
of the intelligence, whereby we know and believe all that God 
has revealed. Faith, then, is knowledge ? Most certainly I Is 
it an act of the will ? No ; not directly — not essentially — not 
immediately. It is, directly, essentially, and immediately, an act 
of the intellect, and not of the will. It is the intellect that is 
the subject wherein faith resides. The will may command that 
intellect to bow down and believe ; but the essential act of faith 
is an act of the intelligence, receiving light and accepting it — and 
that light is knowledge ; therefore, the Catholic Church cannot 
exist without knowledge. 

More than this, the world has many duties w4iich it imposes 
upon man, which require no education, little or nothing of in- 
struction ; for instance, the duty of labor, where one man, edu- 
cated and instructed, taking his position at the head of the 
works or the engineering, is able to direct ten thousand men ; 
there, amongst these ten thousand, no great amount of instruc- 
tion or education is necessary or required ; but the Catholic 
Church, on the other hand, imposes a great many tasks upon 
her children, every one of them requiring not only intellect but 
highly-trained and well-educated , intellect. Look through the 
duties that the Church imposes upon us. Every one of these 
duties is intellectual. The Church commands us to pray. 
Prayer involves a knowledge of God, a knowledge of our own 
wants, and a knowledge how to elevate our souls to God ; for 



358 



Catholic Education. 



prayer is the elevation of the soul ; and the uninstructed soul 
cannot elevate itself to the apprehension of a pure spiritual 
being. The Church commands us to prepare for confession. 
That involves a knowledge of the law of God, in order that we 
may examine ourselves, and see wherein we have failed ; that 
involves a knowledge of ourselves, in order to study ourselves, 
that we may discover our sins. Preparation for confession in- 
volves a knowledge of God's claim to our love, in order that we 
may find motives for our sorrow. The Church commands us to 
approach the Holy Communion. That approach involves the 
high intellectual act whereby we are able with heart and with 
mind to realize the unseen, invisible, yet present God, and to 
receive Him. We see the strong act of the intellect realizing 
the unseen, and transcending the evidence of the senses, so as 
to make that unseen, invisible presence act upon us more 
strongly — agitate us more violently — than the strongest emotion 
that the evidence of the senses can give. 

The Church commands us to understand what her sacraments 
are ; and that is a high intellectual act, whereby we recognize 
God's dealings with man through the agency of material things. 
In a word, every single duty the Catholic Church imposes is of 
the highest intellectual character. 

Again : though the world demands knowledge and education 
as the very first element in its society, still the motive power 
that the world proposes to every man is self-interest ; the appeal 
that the world makes, through the thousand channels through 
which it comes to us, is all an appeal to self. All the professions, 
all the mercantile operations, all the duties and pleasures of life, 
all appeal to the individual to seek his own self-aggrandizement 
— his own self-indulgence — to make life happy and pleasant to 
himself. Not so with the Church ; her foundation is faith ; and 
the motive she puts before every man is not self, but charity. 
Just as self concentrates the heart of man, narrows his intellect- 
ual and spiritual horizon, makes him turn in upon his own con- 
tracted being, and so narrows every intellectual and spiritual 
power within him ; charity, -on the other hand, which is the 
motive propounded by the Church, enlarges and expands the 
heart of man, enlarges the horizon of his intellectual view, and 
lifts him up above himself. Like a man climbing the mountain- 
side, every foot that he ascends he sees the horizon enlarging 



CatJwlic Echication. 



359 



and widening around him. So, also, every Catholic, the more 
he enters into the spirit of his holy religion, the more does he 
perceive the intellectual, moral, and spiritual horizon enlarging — 
taking in more interests and manifesting more beauties of a 
spiritual order. So it is with the Church of God. She depends 
more upon education than even the world, both from the funda- 
mental principle of faith, which is an act of the intellect, and the 
motive of action, which is charity, which is an expansion of the 
intellect, and also from the nature of the duties which she im- 
poses upon her children, and which are all of the highest intel- 
lectual character. 

And yet, my friends, strange to say, amongst the many oddi- 
ties of this age of ours, there is a singular delusion which has 
taken hold of the Protestant mind, that the Catholic Church is 
opposed to education ; that she is anxious to keep the people 
ignorant ; that she is afraid to let them read ; that she does not 
like to see schools opened, and that she is afraid of enlighten- 
ment. They argue so blindly and yet so complacently that 
when you find a good-natured and good-humored Protestant 
man or woman calmly talking about these things, it is difficult 
to keep from laughing ; it is easy enough to keep your temper, 
but very hard to keep from laughing. For instance, talking 
about Spain or Mexico ; calmly and complacently telling how 
the whole country is to become Protestant as soon as the whole 
people learn how to read, you know ! " and begin to reason, 
you know ! " If we can only get good schools amongst them." 
Then they believe the infernal lies told them ; for instance, the 
lie is told that, in Rome, since Victor Emanuel entered it, thirty- 
six schools had been opened — taking it for granted there were 
no schools there before ! I lived twelve years in Rome, under 
the Pope, and there was a school almost in every street ; not a 
child in Rome was uneducated ; nay, more — the Christian broth- 
ers and the nuns went out in the streets of Rome regularly, 
every morning, and went from house to house, and up-stairs in 
the tenement houses, amongst the poor people, picking up the 
children ; or if they found a little boy running about in the 
streets he was taken quietly to school. They went out regularly 
to pick up the children out of the streets ; and yet these men 
who are interested in blinding the foolish Protestant mind, come 
with such language as this — for it is the popular idea, whicli 



360 



Catliolic Education. 



they wish to perpetuate, that the CathoHc Church is afraid of 
education. No, my friends, the Cathohc Church is afraid of one 
man more than any other, and that is the ignorant man. The 
man who brings disgrace upon his rehgion is the thoroughly 
ignorant man, if he is a professed CathoHc ; and the man im- 
possible to make a Catholic of is the thoroughly ignorant Prot- 
estant. The more ignorant he is the less chance there is of 
making a Catholic of him. The truth is, in this day of ours the 
great conversions made to the Catholic Church in this country 
and Europe, from Protestantism, all take place amongst the most 
enlightened and highly-educated and cultivated people. Why? 
Because the more the Protestant reads, and the more he knows 
— the nearer he approaches to the Catholic Church, the true 
fountain-head and source of education. ' Why is this accusation 
brought against the Catholic Church that she is afraid of this 
and afraid of that? I will tell you why. Because she insists, in 
the teeth of the world, and in spite of the world's pride and 
ignorance and bloated self-sufficiency — the Catholic Church 
insists, as she has insisted for eighteen hundred and seventy-two 
years, on saying, I know how to teach ; you don't ; you must 
come to me ; you cannot live without me. Don't imagine you 
can live by yourselves, or you will fall back into the slough of 
your own impurity and corruption." The world does not like 
to hear this. The Catholic Church insists that she alone under- 
stands what education means ; the world does not like to hear 
that. But I come here to-night to prove it, not only to you, my 
Catholic friends, my co-religionists, but if there be one here who 
is not a Catholic to him also, and so to please the public if they 
choose to be pleased ; but if my co-religionists or the pubhc 
choose to be displeased, the truth is there personified in the 
Church, and that truth will remain after the co-religionists and 
the indignant public are all swept away. 

There are three systems of education that are before us in 
this country. There are three classes of men who are talking 
about education; namely — those who go for what is called a 
thoroughly secular system ; those who go for a denominational 
system, as far as it is Protestant ; and the Catholic, who goes in 
for Catholic education. Let us examine the three. There is a 
large class in England and in America who assume the tone of 
the philosopher, and who, with great moral dignity, and infinite 



Catholic Education, 



361 



presumption, lay down .the law for their neighbors, and tell 
them, " There is no use quarrelling, my dear Baptists and 
Methodists, and you, pestering Catholics ; on the other hand, 
you want your schools — every one wants their own school ; let 
us adopt a beautiful system of education, that will take in every 
one, and leave your religious differences among yourselves ; let 
us do away wdth religion altogether. The child has a great deal 
to be taught independent of religion. There is history, phil- 
osophy, geography, geology, engineering, steam works ; all these 
things can be taught without any reference to God at all. So 
let us do this ; let us adopt non-sectarian education." Now, 
my friends, these are two big words : non-sectarian — a word of 
five syllables — and education ; nine syllables altogether. Now, 
when people adopt great big words, in this way, you should 
always be on your guard against them ; because, if I wanted to 
palm off something not true, I would not set it out in plain 
English, but try to involve it in big words ; for, as the man in 
the story says, ''if it is not sense, at least it is Greek." So, 
these two words, non-sectarian education, if you wish to know 
what they mean, turn it into English. Non-sectarian education, 
in good old Saxon English, means teaching without God : five 
syllables. Teaching your children, fathers and mothers, and 
educating them without God ! Not a word about God, no more 
than if God did not exist ! He can be spoken of in the family; 
He may be preached in the temple, or in the church ; but there 
is one establishment in the land where God must not come in ; 
where God must not be mentioned — and that establishment is 
the place where the young are to receive the education that is 
to determine their life, both for time and eternity ; the place 
where the young are to receive that education upon which 
eternity depends. The question of heaven or hell, for every 
child there, depends upon that education, and that education 
must be given without one mention of the name of the God of 
Heaven ! 

Try to let it enter into your minds what this amiable system 
is. This beautiful system is founded upon two principles, 
which lie at the bottom of it ; namely — The first principle is, that 
man can attain perfection without the aid of Jesus Christ at all. 
This system of education does not believe in Christ. It is the 
Masonic principle ; the principle of the Freemasons over again, 



362 



CatJiolic Education. 



namely : that God has made us so, that without any help from 
Him at all, without any shadow of grace, or sacrament, or 
religion, we can work out perfection in ourselves ; therefore, we 
are independent of God. It is the last result of human pride ; 
and hence, the secular education wdiich does not take cognizance 
of God, says, we can bring up these children to be what they 
ought to be, without teaching them anything about God. The 
second principle upon which it is based is, that the end of 
human life, under the Christian dispensation, is not what Christ, 
our Lord, or St. Paul, supposed it to be, but something else. 
The Scriptures declare that the end of the Christian's purposes 
in this life should be to incorporate himself with the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and to grow into the fullness of his age and his manhood 
in Christ ; to put on the Lord — the unity, the love, the generos- 
ity, and every virtue of our Divine Lord and Saviour. This is 
to be the end of the Christian man ; the purpose of his life, on 
w^hich all depends. Now, these principles are expressly denied 
on the part of those w^ho teach without God. Can they teach 
without God — the Almighty God, who has them in the hollow 
of His hand? The principle is absurd in itself. To teach 
human sciences without God is an impossibility. For instance, 
can you teach history without God ? The very first passage of 
history says : In the beginning God created the heavens and 
the earth ; " and, therefore, in this system of education, the pro- 
fessor of history, the teacher, must say: My dear children, I 
am going to teach you history ; but I must not begin at the 
beginning ; for there we find God, and He is not allowed in the 
school! " Can you teach philosophy without God? Philosophy 
is defined to be the pursuit after wisdom. It is the science that 
traces effects to their causes ; and the philosopher proceeds 
from the existence of the first cause ; and that first cause is 
God ; therefore the philosophy that excludes God must begin 
with the second cause : just as if a man wanted to teach a little 
boy how to cast up sums, and he said, We w^ill begin with 
number two ; there is no number one." The child would turn 
round and say, Is not number two a multiplication of number 
one ? How can there be a number two unless there is a number 
one to be multiplied?" Can a man teach the alphabet and 
leave out the first letter A, and say, let us begin with the letter 
B ? Such is the attempt to teach philosophy or history without 



Catholic Education. 



363 



God. Can the}' teach geolog}- without God ? Can they exclude 
from their disquisitions upon the earth, and the earth's surface, 
and the soil of the earth — can they exclude the Creator's hand ? 
They attempt to do it ; but in their very attempt they preach 
their infidehty. Hence, no man can teach geolog>^ without 
being either a profound and pious believer in revelation, or an 
avowed and open infidel. In a word, not one of these human 
sciences is there that does not, in its ultimate result and an- 
alysis, fall back upon the first truth — the fountain of all truth — 
the cause of all certainty — and that is God. 

But, putting all these considerations aside, let us suppose we 
gave our children to these men to instruct them ; they say, the 
parents can teach at home any form of religion they like. Let 
us suppose we give our children to the instruction of these men. 
Do they know how to educate them ? They don't know what 
the word education means. What does it mean? It means, in 
its very etymology, to bring forth, to develop, to bring out what 
is in the mind. That little child of seven years is the father of 
the man. It is only seven years of age, but it is the father of 
the man that will be in twenty years time. Now, to educate 
and bring out in that child every faculty, every power of his 
soul, that he will require for the exercise of his manhood to- 
morrow — that is the true meaning of the word education. In 
the human soul there are two distinct systems of powers, both 
necessary for the man, both acting upon and influencing his life. 
First of all, is the intelligence of a man ; he must receive educa- 
tion. But there is, together Avith that pure intellect or intelli- 
gence, there is the heart that must also be educated ; there are 
the affections ; there is the will ; and as knowledge is necessary 
for the intellect, divine grace is necessary for the heart and for 
the will. If you give to your child every form of human knowl- 
edge, and pour into him ideas in abundance, and develop and 
bring forth every faculty of his intellect, and let nothing be hid 
from him in the way of knowledge, but do not mind his heart, 
and do not educate his spirit and affections — how is he to sub- 
due his passions? Do not speak to him of his moral duties, 
which are to be the sinews of his life, and do not attempt at all 
to strengthen, and teach the will to bow to the intellect ; do not 
speak to him of his duties, nor the things that he must practice — 
what will you have at the end of the education ? An intel- 



3^4 



Cat hoi ic Education . 



lectual monster. Fancy a little child, five or six years old. Sup- 
pose all the growth was turned into his head, and the rest of his 
body remained fixed ; in a few years you would have a monster ; 
you would have a little child with the head of a giant upon him. 
Don't attempt to purify the affections, and you will develop, in- 
deed, the intellect, but the other powers will be in such dispro- 
portion that you have made an intellectual monster. You have 
made something worse, you have made a moral monster ! It is 
quite true, knowledge is power. But all power in creation re- 
quires restraint in order to be useful. Without such restraint, 
it is hurtful and destructive. The horse will serve you only as 
long as you can keep him in hand with bit and bridle. The 
locomotive is useful only as long as the engineer's hand controls 
it. The lightning, which unrestrained would destroy you, be- 
comes the messenger of your thoughts when guided and re- 
strained by the electric w^ire. You have given that man power 
by giving him knowledge. But you have not given him a single 
principle to purify, and influence, or restrain that power, so as to 
use it properly. Therefore, you have made a moral monster. 
And, now, that man is all the more wicked, and all the more 
heartless, and all the more remorseless and impure, in precisely 
the same proportion as you succeed in making him cultured and 
learned. This is the issue of this far-famed system of non-sec- 
tarian education. 

There is another system of education, and' it is that of our 
separated brethren in this land, who say that they are quite as 
indignant as we are, and as horrified at the idea of an utterly 
Godless education ; that they do not go in for a Godless educa- 
tion ; on the contrary, they mean to have God everywhere. 
They are trying now to put Him in the American Constitution 
if they can succeed. They also build their schools ; and they 
think that Catholics are the most unreasonable people in the 
world because we do not consent to send our children to them. 
They say, ''What objection can you have to the Bible? Don't 
you believe in it as well as we do ?" They say, Cannot you 
send your children to us on the platform of our common Chris- 
tianity ? There are a great many things that we believe to- 
gether." They say, " We will not ask to teach the children one 
iota against the Catholic worship ; nor ask them to participate 
in any religious teaching, only as far as they hold that general 



CatJwlic Education. 



365 



truth in common with our Protestant children." So they ask 
us to stand with them on the platform of a common Christianity? 
Well, my friends, a great many Catholics are taken by this, and 
think it is very unreasonable, and that it is almost bigotry in 
the Catholic Church to refuse it. Well, let us but examine what 
the platform of our common Christianity allows ; what does it 
mean? Here is a Protestant school, carried out on Protestant 
principles. Let us suppose that they shut up the Protestant 
Bible, and put it aside, but carry on the school on Protestant 
principles as far as they go in common with the Catholic faith ; 
the Catholic is invited to share the scho j1 with them. First of 
all, my friends, how far do we go together? I don't know if 
there be any Protestant here ; if there is I don't wish to say a 
harsh, disrespectful, or unpleasant word ; but let us consider how 
far we can go together — the Protestants and Catholics! Well, 
they answer, first of all, " We believe in the existence of God." 
Thanks be to^ God, we do ! — the Protestants and Catholics are 
united on that ; both believe there is a God above us. The 
next great dogma of Christianity is — We believe in the Divin- 
ity of Christ." Stop, my friends ! I am afraid that we must 
shake hands and part. I am afraid the platform of our common 
Christianity is too narrow. Are you aware that it is not neces- 
sary for a Protestant to believe in the Divinity of Jesus Christ? 
A great many Protestants do believe it, most piously and most 
fervently; a great many Protestants believe in it as we do. It 
is most emphatically true, however, that there are clergymen of 
the Church of England preaching in Protestant churches 
throughout England, who deny the Divinity of Jesus Christ ; 
and it is emphatically true that at this vtry moment the whole 
Protestant world is trying to get rid of the Athanasian Creed, 
because that creed says whoever does not believe in the Divinity 
of Jesus Christ cannot enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. 
Therefore, I must fling back this assertion. I cannot grant it. 
I wish to God I could. No, my friends, if, to-morrow, the An- 
glican clergy who have written against the Divinity of our Lord, 
and against the inspiration of the Scriptures, and against all 
forms of religion, in works that are printed, asking all the pious 
Protestants of England to believe in their ideas — professors of 
England enjoying their yearly salaries ; preaching religion (God 
save the mark !) — if one of these men were to appear on trial to- 



366 



Catholic Education. 



morrow, the Queen and her Council would decide that the Di- 
vinity of Christ is not a necessary doctrine. You go one step 
beyond the existence of God, and the platform is overthrown ; 
and the Catholic and the Protestant child can no longer stand 
side by side. Into that Protestant school goes a Protestant child, 
to be taught his religion. Everything that his religion requires 
him to believe he is taught, but the Catholic child, before he 
can go in to receive his instruction, must leave behind him, out- 
side the door, his belief in the Sacraments, Confession, the Holy 
Communion, prayers for the dead, the Blessed Virgin, all the 
saints, the duty of self-examination and of prayer ; in a word, 
all the specific duties, all the principles of the Catholic religion 
must be forgotten and ignored by that Catholic child before he 
can come down low enough to take a seat on the platform with 
his little Protestant brother. Is it any wonder that we should 
not like to do it ? If you should live in a beautiful house, well 
furnished, with every convenience, and your neighbor was living 
in a damp cellar, where it was cold and dark ; and if he asked you 
to come down and live with him, you would answer, I am much 
obliged, my dear friend ; but I prefer not." If you had a good 
dinner of roast beef, and your neighbor had only a salt herring ; 
and he requested you to eat with him, you would answer, " No, 
I can't do it." And so, when they ask us to come down from 
the heights of our Catholic knowledge, to go out of the atmos- 
phere of the sacraments and of the divine presence of Jesus 
Christ, the atmosphere of responsibility to God, realized and 
asserted in confession and communion ; and from the interces- 
sory prayer of Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ, and of the 
saints ; and ask us to forget our dead, ask us to give up every- 
thing that a Catholic holds dear, that we may have the privi- 
lege of standing upon the miserable platform of our common 
Christianity," with our Protestant brethren ; we must say that 
we are much obliged to them, but beg to decline their offer. I 
say it is a meagre meal that they offer us ; but inasmuch as we 
have something a great deal better and more luxurious at home, 
we beg leave to be excused ; and if they choose to come to us, 
let them step up to our Catholic schools and find all that they 
can find in their Protestant schools and a great deal more ; but 
if they choose not to do it, we cannot help it, we cannot go 
down to them, never! 



CatJwlic Education. 



3^7 



Now, on the principle of Catholic education, tlic Catholic 
Church says : I know how to educate ; there is no single 
power in that child's soul, not a single faculty, either intellectual, 
moral, or spiritual, that I will not bring forth into its full bloom. 
That child requires knowledge for its intelligence ; and every 
form of human knowledge ; so that we can compete with every 
other teacher in the world." This the Church provides, so that 
she fears no competition, but can hold her own in every branch 
of secular education. Some time ago there was a Commission 
issued by the British Government, to examine the schools of 
Ireland. They thought to convict our Catholic schools of in- 
efficiency ; at least they thought that we paid so much attention 
to religion, that we did not give the children enough secular 
knowledge. Their Commissioners went through the land, and 
solemnly reported, in the House of Commons, that they found 
that no schools in Ireland imparted so much secular knowledge as 
the Christian Brothers and the Nuns. They had to say it. The 
teachers in the other schools declared that secular knowledge 
was their first object, and religion, if admitted at all, a secondary 
thing. The Christian Brothers said : religion first, and secular 
knowledge afterward. The other schools admitted a miserable 
modicum of religion, in order to induce the child to receive 
secular education ; but the Christian Brothers admitted secular 
knowledge, in order to induce in the child's heart and soul 
religion. And yet, in the rivalry, the Catholic Church was so 
completely ahead — even in imparting secular knowledge — that 
our enemies, on this question of secular education, were obliged 
to acknowledge that there is nothing at all in Ireland like the 
schools of the Christian Brothers and of the Nuns. 

The Church says, " Let no fountain of human knowledge be 
denied. Let every light which human knowledge and science 
can bring, be thrown upon that intelligence. I am not afraid 
of it. I desire that the child may have intelligence ; the more 
I can flood that intellect with the light, the better guarantee I 
have that the man will be a true and fervent, because an em- 
inently intellectual, Catholic." But the Church adds, that 
child's heart requires to be instructed ; that child's affections re- 
quire to be directed ; that child's passions must be purified : 
that child must be made familiar with the things and joys of 
heaven before he becomes familiar with the sights and joys of 



368 



Catholic Education. 



earth." Therefore, she takes the child, before he comes to the 
age of reason, and makes his young eyes to be captivated with 
the images, and sweetness, and spiritual beauties of Jesus and 
Mary ; and draws, and makes that young heart full of love for 
the Redeemer before the appeal of passion excites the earthly 
love ; before the mystery of iniquity that is in the world is 
revealed to his reason. Therefore,, she draws that child, and 
familiarises his mind with the words of faith, and the language 
of heaven and prayer ; intermingling with his amusements and 
studies an element of devotion and of religion. Because she 
recognizes, that as much as the world stands in need of intel- 
lectual men, far, far more does it stand in need of honest men, 
pure men, high-minded men. Because she knows if knowledge 
is not intermingled with grace, that knowledge without grace 
becomes a curse instead of a blessing. It was the curse of the 
world that it was so intellectual in the era of Augustus, because, 
says St. Paul, They refused to admit God into their knowl- 
edge ; and God gave them up to a reprobate sense." What 
follows ? Every faculty of the mind, of the affections, as well 
as of the intellect, is brought out in that child ; so that the 
whole soul is developed, and has fair play, and is brought forth, 
under the system of Catholic education. 

Which of these three systems, think you, is the most neces- 
sary for the world? Ah ! my friends, I was asked to please the 
public as well as my co-religionists. I wish to God I could 
please the public with such a doctrine as this, and propound 
the truth ; and say to the public, to every father and mother in 
America, Protestant and Catholic — when God gave you that 
child, it was only that, by your action and by your education, 
that child might grow into the resemblance of Jesus Christ ; it 
was only that Christ, the Son of God, might be multiplied in 
men, that men are born at all. What do you imagine we came 
into this world for? To become rich? It is hard for the rich 
man to be saved ! To become great and wondrous before the 
world's eyes ? Oh, this greatness is like the mist which the 
rays of the morning sun dispel. No ! God made us for eter- 
nity ; and, now, eternity depends upon our bringing out in our 
hearts, in our affections, in the interest and harmony of our 
lives, in the simple faith and belief of our souls, in every highest 
virtue — bringing out within us and clothing ourselves with the 



Catholic Education. 



369 



Lord Jesus Christ. And, now, I ask again, which of the three 
systems of education is likely to do this ? Would to God that 
I could please the public of America, when I preach Jesus 
Christ, and Him alone. Now, surely it is to our schools that 
we can apply His word who said, Suffer the little children to 
come unto Me." And if the public are not pleased when they 
hear His name ; when they hear how they are to implant Him 
in their children's lives — all I can do is to pray for the pub- 
lic, that the Almighty God may open their blind eyes, and let in 
the pure light into their darkened intellects. 

I know, my friends, that it is hard upon the Catholics of this 
country to be constantly called upon to build one set of schools 
for Catholics, and to be obliged, as citizens, to build another 
set, and furnish them, for persons wealthier or better off than 
themselves. It is a hardship ; and I don't think the State — 
with great respect to the authorities — ought to call upon you to 
do it. But, still, great as the hardship is, when you consider 
that your children receive in the Catholic schools what they 
cannot receive elsewhere ; when you consider that your own 
hopes for heaven are bound up in these children, and that the 
education they need they can receive only in the Catholic 
school, and nowhere else — you must put up with this disadvan- 
tage, and make this sacrifice, among many others, to gain 
heaven. For it is written, "The kingdom of heaven suffers 
violence, and the violent shall bear it away." 




24 




THE NATIONAL MUSIC OF 
IRELAND. 



ADIESAND GENTLEMEN: The subject on which 
I propose to address you this evening is already, I 
am sure, sufficiently suggested to you by the beau- 
tiful harp that stands before me. The subject of the 
lecture is the national music of Ireland and the bards of Ire- 
land, as recorded in the history of the nation. I have chosen 
this subject, my dear friends, whereon to address you, and if 
you ask me why — knowing that it was to be my privilege to 
address an audience mostly of my fellow-countrymen, I thought 
that I could find no theme on which, as an Irishman, to address 
my fellow-countrymen, more fitting than that of music. I remem- 
ber that, amongst the grandest and most ancient titles that his- 
tory gives to Ireland, there was the singular title of the Island 
of Song." I remember that Ireland alone, amongst all the na- 
tions of the earth, has, for her national emblem, a musical instru- 
ment. When other nations stand in the battle-field, in the hour 
of national effort and national triumph — when other nations 
celebrate their victories — when they unfold the national banner, 
we behold there the lion, or some emblem of power; the cross, 
or some emblem of faith ; the stars — as in the Star-spangled 
Banner" of America — an emblem of rising hope ; but it is only 
in the bygone days, when Ireland had a national standard, and 
upheld it gloriously on the battle-field — it was only then that 
Ireland unfolded that national standard, which, floating out upon 
the breezes of heaven, displayed embodied in that " field of 
green" the golden harp of Erin. What wonder, then, that, when 
I would choose a subject pleasing to you and to me — something 




The National Music of Ireland. 



371 



calculated to stir all those secret emotions of national life and 
historical glory which are still our inheritance, though we are a 
conquered people — that I should have chosen the subject of our 
national music. But, first of all, my friends, when we analyze 
the nature of man, we find that he is a being made up of a body 
and a soul ; that is to say, there are two distinct elements of na- 
ture which unite in man. There is the body — perishable — 
material — gross ; there is the soul — spiritual — angelic, and coming 
to us from heaven. For, when the Creator made man, He 
formed, indeed, his body from out of the slime of the earth ; but 
He breathed, from His own divine lips, the vital spark, and set 
upon his soul the sign of divine resemblance to Himself. The 
soul of man is the seat of thought ; it is the seat of affection ; it 
is the seat of all the higher spiritual and pure emotions. But, 
grand as this soul is — magnificent in its nature, in its origin, in 
its ultimate destiny — it is so united to the body of man, that, 
without the evidence of the senses of the body, the soul can re- 
ceive no idea, nor the spirit throb to any high or spiritual emo- 
tion. The soul, therefore, dwelling within us, is ever waiting as 
it were to receive the sensations that the five bodily senses con- 
vey to it. All its pleasure or its pain, its sorrow or its joy — all 
must come through the evidence of these senses. The eye looks 
upon something pleasant — upon these beautiful flowers of na- 
ture's loveliness ; and the pleasure that the eye receives passes 
to the soul, and creates the emotion of the feeling of pleasure in 
the body, for a thing of beauty, and, in the soul, of gratitude to 
the Lord God who gave it. 

Amongst all these senses of the body — although the eye be 
the master, as St. Augustine tells us, still the sensations which 
the soul receives through the ear — the sense of hearing — are the 
highest, most innocent, and spiritual of all. The evidence of the 
eye seems to appeal more directly to the intelligence of the 
mind ; it stirs us up to think ; it seldoms calls up strong, 
passionate, instantaneous emotion ; but it stirs up the mind to 
think and consider. The ear, on the other hand, seems to bring 
its testimony more directly to the spirit — to the seat of the 
affections in man. The sense of hearing appeals more to the 
heart than to the mind. Hence it is that, although " faith 
comes by hearing," and faith is the act of the intellect, bowing 
down before that great truth which it apprehends through the 



T]ic Xational Music of Ireland. 



sense of hearing, and at the sound of the preacher's voice — 
it is still the medium through which that faith is received into 
the heart. This the Church of God has always recognized, and. 
from the earliest ages, has striven, by the sweet strains of her 
sacred music, to move the affections of man towards God. But. 
in truth, has it not been from the beginning thus — that men 
have always been accustomed to express their emotions of joy 
or of sorrow to the sound of song? Our first parent had not 
yet quitted this earth — this earth, Avhich was made so miserable 
by his sin — until his eyes beheld, amongst the descendants of 
Cain, a man named Tubal, " who was the father of those who 
play upon organs and musical instruments." It was fitting 
that the first musician the world ever beheld should have been 
a child of the reprobate and murderer. Cain, Almighty God 
permitted that music should start from out the children of the 
most unhappy of men. No doubt they sought, by the sweet 
strains of melody, to lighten the burden that pressed upon the 
heart and spirit of their most unhappy father. Xo doubt they 
tried in the same strains of svreet melody to give vent to their 
own sorrows, or to lighten the burden of their grief and despair, 
by expressing it in the language of song. For so it is in the 
nature of man. The little babe in its mother's arms expresses 
its sense of pain by the wail of sorrow ; and expresses its mean- 
ing so well, that when the mother sees her child's lips open and 
emit the high, inarticulate cry of joy, she knows that the 
mysterious sunshine of delight and pleasure is beaming upon 
the soul of her child. The mother herself may have never sung 
until the voice of nature is awakened within her when first she 
bears her first-born in her arms. Then she learns the lay that 
soothes it to sleep — 

" The mother, taught by Nature's hand, 
Her child, when weeping, 
Will lull to sleeping 
With some sweet song of her native land." 

That music — the natural melody of music — has a powerful in- 
fluence upon the soul of man, I need not tell you. There is not 
one amongst us who has not experienced, at some time or other, 
in listening to the strains of sweet melody — the strains of song — 
the sensation either of joy increased, or sorrow soothed, in his 
soul. Thus, of old, when Saul, the King of Israel, abandoned 



The National Music of Ireland. 



373 



his God, and an evil spirit came upon him, from time to time 
shadowing and clouding his mind with despair, bringing to him the 
frenzy of ungovernable sorrow — then his skillful men sought and 
brought him the youth David, and he sat in the presence of the 
king; and when the spirit came upon Saul and troubled him, 
David took his harp and played upon it ; and the spirit depart- 
ed, and the king was calmed, and his mighty sorrow passed 
away. So, in like manner, when the people of old would ex- 
press their joy or their exultation before the Lord God, as in the 
day when the glorious temple of Jerusalem was opened, one 
hundred and twenty priests came and stood before all the 
people, and, from brazen trumpets, sent forth the voice of 
melody ; and the house of the Lord was filled with music, and 
every heart was gladdened, and all Israel lifted up its voice in 
song, in unison with their royal Prophet King, as he played 
upon his harp of gold. Thus it is, that amongst the various 
senses and their evidences, the sense of hearing, through music, 
is that which seems most directly and immediately to touch the 
heart and the spirit of man. It is the most spiritual in itself of 
all the senses. The object that meets the eye is something 
tangible, substantial, material. The object that appeals to the 
taste is something gross and material. The thing that presents 
itself to the senses, through the touch, must be palpable and 
material. But what is it that the sense of hearing presents to 
the soul ? It is an almost imperceptible wave of sound, acting 
upon a delicate membrane — a fibre the most delicate in the 
human body — the drum of the ear, which is affected by the 
vibration of the air, carrying the sound on its invisible wings. 
And thus it comes — a spiritual breath, through the most 
spiritual and soul-like of all the senses, and of all the evidences 
those senses bring to the soul of man. 

The effect of music upon the memory is simply magical. 
Have you ever, my friends, tested it ? Is there anything in this 
world that so acts upon our memory as the sound of the old, 
familiar song, that we may not have heard for years ? We 
heard it, perhaps, in some lonely glen, in dear old Ireland, let us 
say. We have been familiar from our youth with the sound of 
that ancient melody, as the man sang it following his horses, 
ploughing the field ; as the old woman murmured it, whilst she 
rocked the child ; as the milkmaid chanted it, as she milked 



374 



The National Music of Ireland. 



the cows in the evening: it is one of the traditions of our young 
hearts, and of our young senses. Then, when we leave the 
Green Land, and go out amongst strange people, we hear strange 
words, and strange music. The songs of our native land for a 
moment are forgotten, until upon a day, perhaps, as we are 
passing, that air, or old song, is sung again. Oh, in an instant, 
that magic power in the sound of the old, familiar notes throngs 
the halls of the memory with the dead. They rise out of their 
graves, the friends of our youth, the parents, and the aged ones, 
whom we loved and revered. Our first love rises out of her 
grave, in all the freshness of her beauty. So they fill the halls 
of the memory, the ones we may have loved in the past, with 
the friends whom we never expected to think of again. 
Well does the poet describe it when he says : 

" When through life unblest we rove, 

Losing all that made life dear, 
Should some notes we used to love, 

In days of boyhood, meet our ear ; 
Oh ! how welcome breathes the strain, 

Wak'ning thoughts that long have slept — 
Kindling former smiles again 

In faded eyes that long have wept. 

" Like the gale that sighs along 

Beds of oriental flowers, 
Is the grateful breath of song, 

That once was heard in happier hours. 
Filled mth balm the gale sighs on, 

Though the flowers have sunk in death ; 
So, when pleasure's dream is gone. 

It's memorj- lives in Music's breath ! 

" Music I — oh ! how faint, how weak, 

Language fades before thy spell 1 
\\liy should feeling ever speak, 

When thou canst breathe her soul so well ? 
Friendship's balmy words may feign, 

Love's are even more false than they ; 
Oh ! 'tis only Music's strain 

Can sweetly soothe, and not betray ! " 

No words of mine can exaggerate the power that music has 
over the soul of man. When the glorious sons of St. Ignatius 
— the magnificent Jesuits — went down to evangelize South 
America, to preach to the native Indians, the hostile tribes lined 



The Naiio)ial Music of Ireland. 



375 



the river bank ; the savage chieftains and warriors, in their war- 
paint and dress, stood ready to send their poisoned arrows 
through the hearts of these men. They would not hsten to 
them, or open their minds to their influence, until, at length, one 
of the missionaries who were in a boat sailing down one of the 
great rivers, took a musical instrument and began to play an old, 
sacred melody, and the others lifted up their voices and sang: 
sweetly and melodiously they sang, voice dropping in after 
voice, singing the praises of Jesus and Mary. The woods re- 
sounded to their peaceful chants ; the very birds upon the trees 
hushed their songs that they might hear ; and the savages threw 
down their arms and rushed, weaponless, into the river, following 
after the boats, listening, with captive hearts, to the music. 
Thus, upon the sound of song, did the light of divine grace, 
and of faith, and Christianity, reach the savage breasts of 
these Indians. . . 

What shall we say of the power of music in stirring up all the 
nobler emotions of man ? The soldier arrives after his forced 
march, tired, upon the battle-field. He hopes for a few hours' 
rest before he is called upon to put forth all his strength. The 
bugle sounds in the morning, and this poor and unrested man is 
obliged to stand to his arms all day, and face death in a thou- 
sand forms. The tug of war lasts the whole day long. Now 
retreating, now advancing, every nerve is braced up, every emo- 
tion excited in him, until at length nature appears to yield, and 
the tired warrior seems unable to wield his sword another hour. 
But the national music strikes up ; the bugle and the trumpets 
send forth their sounds in some grand national strain ! Then, 
with the clash of the cymbal, all the fire is aroused in the man. 
Drooping, fainting, perhaps wounded as he is, he springs to his 
arms again. Every nobler emotion of valor and patriotism is 
raised within him ; to the sound of this music, to the inspiration 
of this national song, he rushes to the front of the battle, and 
sweeps his enemy from the field. 

Thus, when we consider the nature of music, the philosoph}- 
of music, do we find that it is of all other appeals to the senses 
the most spiritual ; that it is of all other appeals to the soul 
the most powerful ; that it operates not as much by the mode 
of reflection as in exciting the memory and the imagination, 
causing the spirit and the affections of men to rise to nobler 



376 



The National Music of Ireland. 



efforts, and to thrill with sublime emotions and influences. And, 
therefore, I say it is, of all other sciences, the most noble and 
the most godlike, and the grandest that can be cultivated by 
man on this earth. 

And now, as it is with individuals, so it is with nations. As 
the individual expresses his sense of pain by the discordant cry 
wdiich he utters ; as the individual expresses the joy of his soul 
by the clear voice of natural music ; so, also, every nation has 
its own tradition of music, and its own national melody and 
song. Wherever we find a nation with a clear, distinct, sweet, 
and emphatic tradition of national music, coming down from 
sire to son, from generation to generation, from the remotest 
centuries — there have we evidence of a people strong in char- 
acter, well marked in their national disposition — there have we 
evidence of a most ancient civilization. But wherever, on the 
other hand, you find a people light and frivolous — not capable 
of deep emotions in religion — not deeply interested in their na- 
tive land, and painfully affected by her fortunes — a people 
easily losing their nationality, or national feeling, and easily 
mingling with strangers and amalgamating with them — there 
you will be sure to find a people with scarcely any tradition of 
national melody that would deserve to be classed amongst the 
songs of the nations. Now, amongst these nations, Ireland — that 
most ancient and holy island in the western sea — claims, and 
deservedly, upon the record of history, the first and grandest 
pre-eminence among all peoples. I do not deny to other nations 
high musical excellence. I will not even say that, in this our 
day, we are not surpassed by the music of Germany, by the 
music of Italy, or the music of England. Germany, for purity 
of style, for depth of expression, for the argument of song, sur- 
passes all the nations to-day. Italy is acknowledged to be the 
queen of that lighter, more pleasing, more sparkling, and, to me, 
more pleasant style of music. In her own style of music, Eng- 
land is supposed to be superior to Italy, and, perhaps, equal to 
Germany. But, great as are the musical attainments of these 
great peoples, there is not one of these nations, or any other 
nation, that can point back to such national melody, to such a 
body of national music, as the Irish. Remember, that I am not 
speaking now of the labored composition of some great master ; 
I am not speaking now of a wonderful Mass, written by one 



The National Music of Ireland. 



377 



man ; or a great oratorio, written by another — works that appeal 
to the ear refined and attuned by education ; works that dehght 
the critic. I am speaking of the song that Hves in the hearts 
and voices of all the people ; I am speaking of the national 
songs you will hear from the husbandman, in the field, following 
the plough ; from the old woman, singing to the infant on her 
knee ; from the milkmaid, coming from the milking ; from the 
shoemaker at his work, or the blacksmith at the forge, while he 
is shoeing the horse. This is the true song of the nation ; this 
is the true national melody, that is handed down, in a kind of 
traditional way, from the remotest ages ; until, in the more civil- 
ized and cultivated time, it is interpreted into written music ; 
and then the world discovers, for the first time, a most beautiful 
melody in the music that has been murmured in the glens and 
mountain valleys of the country for hundreds and thousands of 
years. Italy has no such song. Great as the Italians are, as 
masters, they have no popularly received tradition of music. 
The Italian peasant — (I have lived amongst them for years) — 
the Italian peasant, while working in the vineyard, has no music 
except two or three high notes of a most melancholy character, 
commencing upon a high dominant and ending in a semitone. 
The peasants of Tuscany and of Campagna, when, after their 
day's work, they meet, in the summer's evenings, to have a 
dance, have no music ; only a girl takes a tambourine, and beats 
upon it, marking time, and they dance to that ; but they have 
no music. So with other countries. But go to Ireland ; listen 
to the old woman, as she rocks herself in her chair, and pulls 
down the hank of flax for the spinning ; listen to the girl com- 
ing home from the field with the can of milk on her head ; and 
what do you hear ? — the most magnificent melody of music. Go 
to the country merrymakings and you will be sure to find the 
old fiddler, or old white-headed piper, an infinite source of the 
brightest and most sparkling music. 

How are we to account for this? We must seek the cause 
of it in the remotest history. It is a historical fact that the 
maritime or sea-coast people of the north and west of Europe 
were, from time immemorial, addicted to song. We know, for 
instance, that in the remotest ages, the kings of our sea-girt 
island, when they went forth upon their warlike forays, were 
always accompanied by their harper, or minstrel, who animated 



37^ The National Music of Ireland. 

them to deeds of heroic bravery. Even when the Danes came 
sweeping down in their galleys upon the Irish coast, high in the 
prow of every war-boat sat the scald, or poet — white-haired, 
heroic, wrinkled with time — the historian of all their national 
wisdom and their national prowess. And when they approached 
their enemy, sweeping with their long oars through the waves, 
he rose in the hour of battle, and poured forth his soul in song, 
and fired every warrior to the highest and most heroic deeds. 
Thus it was in Ireland, when Nial of the Nine Hostages swept 
down upon the coast of France, and took St. Patrick (then a 
youth) prisoner ; the first sounds that greeted the captive's ear 
were the strains of our old Irish harper, celebrating in a lan- 
guage he then knew not, the glories and victories of heroes long 
departed. 

Now, it was Ireland's fortune that the sons of Milesius came 
and settled there. They came from Spain in the earliest ages, 
and they brought with them a tradition of civilization, of law, 
and of national melody. They established a system of jurispru- 
dence, established the reign of law, and of national government 
in the land ; they made Ireland a nation, governed by kings 
recognizing her constitution and laws — governed by an elective 
constitutional monarchy. Assembled thus, they met in the lofty 
and heroic halls of ancient Tara. There our ancient history tells 
us that, after the king who sat upon his throne, the very first 
places among the princes of the royal family were given to the 
bards. They were the historians of the country. They wrote 
the history of the nation in their heroic verse, and proclaimed 
that history in their melodious song ; they were the priests of 
that ancient form of Paganism, that ancient and mysterious 
Druidical worship whose gloomy mysteries they surrounded 
with the sacred charm of music. And so they popularized their 
false gods, by appealing to the nation's heart, through song. 
They were the favorite counsellors of the kings ; they were the 
most learned men in the land ; they knew all the national tradi- 
tions, and all the nation's resources ; and, therefo^, if a war was 
to be planned, or an alliance to be formed, or a treaty to be made, 
the bards were called into the'i:ouncil ; it was their wise counsel 
that guided and formed the national purposes. They accom- 
panied the warrior-king tc^the field of battle; and that warrior- 
king's highest hope was that, in returning triumphant from the 



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379 



field of his glory, his name might be immortalized amongst his 
fellow-men, and enthroned in the fame of the bardic verse ; or 
that, even if he was borne back dead upon his shield from the 
battle-field, his name would be perpetuated, and his fame 
would live on in the hearts and minds of his countrymen, en- 
shrined in the glories of national song. Hence it is, that from 
the earliest date of Irish history — long before the light of Chris- 
tianity beamed upon us— the bards were the greatest men of the 
land. The minstrels of Erin filled the land with the sound of 
their songs ; and the very atmosphere of Ireland was impreg- 
nated with music. And when God gave to our native land one 
of His highest gifts — a true poetic child ; second to none in 
brilliancy of imagination, in sympathy with nature, in tender- 
ness of heart, and in wonderful copiousness of metaphor and 
of purest language ; the poet found the road to fame and im- 
mortality opened to him in the grand old music of Erin. He 
had only to translate into our language of to-day the thoughts, 
and to wed them to the melody of the olden time, and Avhilst 
many a now honored name shall be forgotten, Ireland's Tom 
Moore shall live for ever in his Irish melodies. He took into 
his gifted hands the dear harp of his country, the long silent 
harp of Erin, he swept its chords to the ancient lay, and "gave 
all its notes to light, freedom, and song." 

" Sing, sweet harp, oh sing to me 

Some song of ancient days, 
Whose sounds in this sad memory 

Long buried dreams shall raise. 
Some lay that tells of vanished fame 

Whose light once round us shone, 
Of noble pride now turned to shame, 

And hopes forever gone. 
Sing, sad harp, thus sing to me — 

Alike our doom is cast ; 
Both lost to all but memory, 

We live but in the past." 

His doom was indeed cast with Ireland's harp and Ireland's 
music, and that doom is immortality. 

Addressing that loved harp, he exclaims : 

" Dear harp of my countrv', in darkness I found thee ; 
The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long ; 
When proudly, my own island harp, I unbound thee, 
And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song. 



38o 



TJie National Music of Ireland. 



The warm lay of love, and the light note of gladness, 

Have wakened thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill. 
But so oft hast thou echoed, the deep sigh of sadness, 

That even in thy mirth it will steal from thee still. 

" Dear harp of my country, farewell to thy numbers, 

This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine ! 
Go, sleep, with the sunshine of fame on thy slumbers, 

Till touched by some hand less unworthy than mine. 
If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover. 

Has throbb'd at our lay, 'tis thy gloiy alone, 
I was but as the wind passing heedlessly over. 

And all the wild sweetness I waked was thine own." 

Yes ; Ireland's poet was a lover of his country, and was smit- 
ten with her glory ; but finding that glory eclipsed in the pres- 
ent, he went back to seek it in the past, and found every ancient 
tradition of Erin's ancient greatness still living in the hearts of 
the people and the voice of their national song. It was the 
music of Ireland, as it was the bards of Ireland, that kept the 
nation's life-blood warm, even when that life-blood seemed to be 
flowing from every vein. It was the sympathy of Ireland's 
music — the strong, tender sympathy of her bards — that sustained 
the national spirit, even when all around seemed hopeless. The 
first great passage in our history, as recorded by Ireland's poet, 
and by him attuned to a sweet ancient melody, describes the 
landing of the Milesians in Ireland. It was many centuries be- 
fore Christianity beamed upon the land. An ancient Druidical 
prophecy foretold that the sons of a certain chief called Gadelius 
were to inherit a beautiful island in the West. This became a 
dream of hope to him and to his sons ; so, at last, they resolved 
to seek this island of Innisfail." And, as the poet so beauti- 
fully expresses it — 

" They came from a land beyond the sea ; 

And now, o'er the Western main. 
Set sail, in their good ships, gallantly. 

From the sunny land of Spain. 
' Oh ! where's the isle we've seen in dreams ? 

Our destined home or grave,' — 
Thus sung they, as, by the morning's beams, 

They swept the Atlantic wave. 

" And lo, where afar o'er ocean shines 
A sparkle of radiant green. 



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381 



As though in that deep lay emerald mines, 
Whose light through the waves was seen. 
'Tis Innisfail ! — 'tis Innisfail ! ' 
Rings o'er the echoing sea, 

While, bending to Heaven, the warriors hail 
The home of the brave and free ! " 

For many years after their landing, the Milesians labored to 
make Ireland a great country, and they succeeded. But the 
brightest light of all had not yet beamed upon us ; the light of 
Christianity was not yet upon the land. Yet many indications 
foretold its coming ; and, amongst others, there is one, com- 
memorated in ancient tradition and ancient song, which the poet 
has rendered into the language of our day. We are told that, 
years before Ireland became Catholic, the daughter of a certain 
king named Leara, or Lir, whose name was Fionnuala, was 
changed by some magic agency into the form of a swan ; and she 
was doomed to roam through the lakes and rivers of Ireland, 
until the time when the bell of heaven should be heard ringing 
for the first Mass ; then the unhappy princess was to be restored 
to her natural shape. So the reasoning bird sailed on, and she 
sang to the rivers, and to the lakes, and to the cascades, the 
song : — 

" Silent, Oh Moyle, be the roar of thy waters : 

Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose ; 
While, murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daughter, 

Tells to the night star her tale of woes. 
When shall the swan, her death-note singing, 

Sleep with wings in darkness furl'd ? 
When shall Heaven, its sweet bell ringing, 

Call my spirit from this stormy world ? 

" Sadly, Oh Moyle, to thy winter wave weeping, 

Fate bids me languish long ages away ; 
For still in her darkness does Erin lie sleeping ; 

Still doth the pure light its dawning delay. 
When shall the day-star, mildly springing. 

Warm our isle with peace and love ? 
When shall Heaven, its sweet bell ringing, 

Call my spirit to the fields above ? " 

The light came ; and Patrick, the Catholic bishop, stood upon 
Tara's height, to meet the intelligence, the genius, and the mind 
of Ireland. The light came ; and Patrick, the bishop, stood 
with a voice ringing to words never heard before in the Celtic 



382 



The National Music of Ireland. 



tongue, and to a music newly awakened in the land, with the Gos- 
pel of Christ upon his lips, and the green shamrock in his hand. 
And these wise Druids leaned upon their harps, listened and 
argued until conviction seized upon them, and Dhubhac, the 
head of the bards, seized his harp and said : " Oh, ye kings and 
men of Erin ! this man speaks the glory of the true God ; and 
this harp of mine shall never resound again save unto the praises 
of Patrick's God." Then all that was in Ireland of intelligence, 
of affection, of bravery, of energy, of talent, and of soul, rose 
up ; they sprang to Patrick, clasped him to their hearts, and 
rose to the very height of Catholic and Christian perfection, w^ith 
all the energy and the noble heart of the old Celtic nation. 

Then began three centuries of such glory as the world never 
beheld before or since. The whole island became an island of 
saints and sages. Monasteries and colleges crowned every hill 
and sanctified every valley ; and this era of sanctity continued 
until the whole island became the monastic centre of Europe. 
Upon the rising heights of Mungret, on the Shannon's banks, 
five hundred monks, all well-skilled in music, sang the praises of 
God. In Bangor, in the county Down, thousands of Irish 
monks established the custom of taking up the praise of God in 
successive choirs, — night and day, day and night ; — so that the 
voice of the singer, the notes of the harper, the sound of the 
organ, were never for an instant silent in the glorious choirs of 
that ancient monastery. Then do we read, upon the testimony 
of one of our bitterest enemies, the English historian, Sylvester 
Giraldus, commonly known as " Giraldus Cambrensis," that the 
Irish so excelled in music, that the kings of Scotland and Wales 
came thence to Ireland to look for harpers and minstrels to take 
back with them, to be the pride and honor of their courts. And 
the students who came from all the ends of the earth to study 
in the colleges and schools of Ireland, among other things, 
learned the music of the land, and went home to charm their 
friends and their fellow-countrymen, in Germany, in France, in 
the north of Italy, with the strains and the splendid tradition 
of music that they had learned in the island that was the mother 
of song. 

St. Columba, or Columkille, was the head of the bards in 
Ireland. At that time so great was the honor in which the bards 
were held, that an Irish king bestowed the barony of Ross- 



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383 



Carbcrry — a large estate, carrying with it titles of nobility — upon 
a minstrel harper, in return for a glorious song. Oh, hovv well 
must the bard have been honored, how magnificently and 
grandly appreciated, when the kings of the land sought to be- 
stow their highest dignities upon the child of song I In this 
degenerate age, if a thing is worth scarcely anything, our phrase 
is " 'tis scarcely ^^•orth a song I " but, fourteen hundred years 
ago, a song, in Ireland, if it was well written, and set to original 
music, and the harper could skillfully sweep the chords of his 
lyre, and excite joy or pleasure in the heart of his monarch, — 
that harper received a crown of gold, broad lands, and titles of 
nobility. 

A few years later, we find that there were twelve hundred 
masters of the art of music in Ireland, and that King Hugh of 
Ireland was so much afraid of them, of their influence with 
the people, beside which his own royalty seemed to be nothing 
— so deeply was music loved by the people — that he became 
jealous, and was about to pass a decree for the destruction of 
the minstrels wholesale ; when St. Columba, who was far away 
at lona, hearing that his brother bards were about to be 
destroyed, hastened from his far northern island ; and by his 
powerful pleading saved the minstrelsy of Ireland. He was a 
bard ; and he pleaded as a bard for his fellow-bards ; and he suc- 
ceeded. And well it is said, that Ireland and Scotland may 
w^ell be grateful to the founder of lona, who saved the music 
which is now the brightest gem in the crown of both lands. 

But the piety and the peace that shone upon the land by the 
glory of Ireland's virtue in these by-gone days was so manifest, 
that, as if they knew it but had no fear, the kings and the chief- 
tains of the land resolved to test it. From the northwest point 
of the island, a young maiden, radiant in beauty, alone and un- 
protected, covered with jewels, set out to travel throughout the 
whole length of the land. On the highway she trod any hour 
of the morning, mid-day, and the evening ; she penetrated 
through the centre of the island ; she crossed the Shannon ; she 
swept the western coast and came up again to the shores of 
Munster ; she penetrated into the heart of royal Tipperary ; 
she met her countrymen on every mile of her road — no man of 
Ireland even offended her by a fixed stare ; no man of Ireland 
addressed to her an offensive word ; no hand of Ireland was 



384 



The National Music of Ireland. 



put forth to take from her defenceless body one single gem or 
jewel that shone thereon. The poet describes her as meeting- 
a foreign knight, a stranger from a distant land, who came to 
behold the far-famed glory of Catholic Ireland : — 

" Rich and rare ■were the gems she wore, 
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore ; 
But, oh ! her beauty was far beyond 
Her sparkling gems or snow-white wand. 

" * Lady ! dost thou not fear to stray, 

So lone and so lovely, along this bleak way ? 

Are Erin's sons so good or so cold, 

As not to be tempted by woman or gold ? ' 

" ' Sir Knight ! T feel not the least alarm. 
No son of Erin will ofter me harm : 
For though they love woman and golden store. 
Sir Knight ! they love honor and virtue more.' 

" On she went, and her maiden smile, 
In safety lighted her round the Green Isle ; 
And blest for ever is she who relied 
On Erin's honor, and Erin's pride." 

This vision of historic loveliness and glory was rudely shat- 
tered and broken by the Danish invasion at the end of the 
eighth century. The Danes landed on the coast of Wexford, 
and the fate of the country was imperilled ; the religion of the 
country Avas threatened ; the piety of the country almost ex- 
tinguished ; and, for three hundred years, the question was one 
of national existence. In every field of the land the blood of the 
people flowed like water. For instance, when the Danes and 
the Irish met in the county of Wicklow, they encountered each 
other near the " sweet Vale of Avoca." The battle began at six 
o'clock in the morning : it lasted till nightfall. The rivers flowed 
red with blood ; but when the sun was setting, and the Irish 
standard of green, was flung out, the Gael were victorious, and 
six thousand dead bodies of the Danes covered the Vale of 
Glenamana. Something more glorious even than the tender 
reminiscences of our national poet is the recall of the victory 
which was gained there. He praises the vale for its beauty: — 

" There is not in this wide world a valley so sweet 
As the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; 
Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, 
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart." 



The National Music of Ireland. 385 



But it is not " the beauty that nature has shed o'er the scene" 
that is its grandest reminiscence : it is the battle fought in that 
neighboring vale, which saw the glorious King Malachi the 
Second return victorious, wearing 

" The collar of gold, 
Which he won from the proud invader," 

the evening that saw the laurels of Wicklow sprinkled with the 
red blood of the Danish foe. For, as the poet says, — 

" Less dear the laurel growing, 
Alive, untouch'd, and blowing, 

Than that whose braid 

Is pluck'd to shade 
The brows with victory glowing." 

Yet, although the future was so grievously imperilled — although 
so many interests were threatened with destruction — yet Ireland, 
during these three hundred years of Danish war, kept her music. 
Her bards were in the battle-fields ; and often the sound of the 
harp mingled with the cry of the combatants ; and often the hand 
that smote down the Dane," like that of the glorious king 
who fell at Clontarf, — Brian Boroimhe, — was a hand that could 
not only draw the sword and wield it, but could sweep the harp, 
and bring forth from its chords of silver or of gold the genius 
and the tenderness of Irish song. We can well imagine on the 
field of Clontarf, when Brian went forth to the battle, the chief 
of his bards, Mac Liag, accompanying him to the field, going 
before him as he reviewed his army, and bringing forth with 
trembling fingers the spirit of the national music, which braced 
the arms of the hero. That minstrel had to take back with 
him the dead body of his aged and loved master ; and he lifted 
up his voice in a song, the sweetest and most tender, yet most 
manly expression of the grief of the friend and servant, as he sat 
in the deserted halls of Kincora, and filled it with his lamenta- 
tion over the body of Ireland's greatest king. He told the nation 
to remember his glories, and the bards to fling out the name of 
Brian as the strongest argument of bravery. 

" Remember the glories of Brian the Brave, 
Though the days of the hero are o'er ; 
Though lost to Mononia, and cold in the grave. 
He returns to Kincora no more. 



386 The National Music of Ireland. 

The star of the field, uhich so often hath poured 

It's beam o'er the battle, is set ; 
But enough of its glory remains on each sword, 

To light us to victory yet. 

" Mononia ! when Nature embellish'd each tint 

Of thy fields and thy mountains so fair, — 
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print 

The footstep of slavery there ? 
No ! Freedom, whose smile we shall never resign, 

Go, tell our invaders, the Danes, 
That 'tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine, 

Than to sleep but a moment in chains." 

Brian passed to his honored grave, and to the immortality of 
his Irish human fame ; and, with his Hps upon the crucifix, he 
sent forth his spirit to God. The unhappy year, 1 168, came,, and 
brought with it the curse of Ireland, in the first cause of the 
English invasion. Bear with me, ye maidens and mothers of 
Ireland: bear with me when I tell you that this curse was 
brought upon us by an Irishwoman ; and I would not mention 
her, save that in all history she is the only daughter of Ireland 
who ever fixed a stain on the fair fame of our womanhood. She 
was an Irish princess, named Dearbhorgal, who was married to 
O'Ruark, Prince of Breffni, but eloped with Dermod Mac- 
Murchad, King of Leinster. O'Ruark, at the time, was absent 
upon a religious pilgrimage of devotion. His return to his aban- 
doned home, and his despair, are commemorated in song. The 
whole nation was roused, and the unhappy Dearbhorgil and her 
paramour, the King of Leinster, were banished from the Irish 
soil. Why? Because, with her traditions of fame and glory, 
there was no room on the soil of Ireland for the adulterous man 
or for the faithless woman. Thus driven forth, MacMurchad in- 
voked the aid of Henry II. to reinstate him ; and in the year 
1 1 69 that monarch sent over an English, or rather a Norman, 
army ; they set foot upon Ireland, and there they are, unfor- 
tunately, to-day. From that hour to this, the history of Ireland 
is written in tears and blood. On returning, his thoughts full 
of God, O'Ruark sees the towers of his castle rise before him. 
The poet thus describes his emotion : 

" The valley lay smiling before me, 
Where so lately I left her behind ; 
Yet I trembled, and something hung o'er me. 
That saddened the joy of my mind. 



The National Music of Ireland. 



387 



I looked for the lamp, which she told me 

Should shine when her pilgrim returned ; 
But, though darkness began to enfold me, 

No lamp from the battlements burned. 

I flew to her chamber ; 'twas lonely, 

As if the loved tenant lay dead ! 
Ah ! would it were death, and death only ! 

But no, the young false one had fled ! 
And there hung the lute, that could soften 

My very worst pain into bliss ; 
While the hand that had waked it so often 

Now throbbed to a proud rival's kiss. 

' Thei-e was a time, falsest of women. 

When Breffni's good sword would have sought 
That man, through a million of foemen, 

Who dared but to doubt thee in thought ! 
While now — oh, degenerate daughter 

Of Erin, how fallen's thy fame ! 
Through ages of bondage and slaughter 

Thy country shall bleed for thy shame. 

* Already the curse is upon her, 
• And strangers her valleys profane ; 
They come to divide, to dishonor, 

And tyrants they long will remain. 
But, onward ! the green banner rearing ; 

Go, flesh every sword to the hilt ; 
On our side is virtue and Erin, 

On theirs is the Saxon and gxiilt." 

The war — the sacred war — began. We know that for four 
hundred sad years that war was carried on, with varying success. 
In many a field was it well fought and well defended — this cause 
of Ireland's national independence. Many a man, glorious in 
her history, wrote his name upon its annals with the point of a 
sword dripping with Saxon blood. Yet the cause was a losing 
one, though not a lost one. Well might Ireland's patriots weep 
when they saw division in the camp and division in the coun- 
cil ; when they saw the brightest names in Ireland's histor}- 
going to look for Norman honors — to sink the proud names of 
O'Brien, O'Neill, or O'Donnell in the vain title of the Earl of 
this, or the Earl of that. Well might the impassioned minstrel 
exclaim, in the agony of the thought that, perhaps, Ireland was 
never more to be a nation : 



388 



The National Music of Ireland, 



" Oh, for the swords of former time : 

Oh, for the men who bore them 1 
When, armed for Right, they stood sublime, 

And tyrants crouched before them ; 
When pure yet, ere courts began 

With honors to enslave him, 
The noblest honors worn by man 

Were those which virtue gave him." 

How fared it with the bards during this long-protracted 
agony of national woe ? They still animated the hopes of the 
nation ; they still made their appeals to the Irish heart ; they 
still made the pulse of the nation throb again to the sound 
of their glorious harps. Spenser, the English poet, reproached 
them, because they sang only of love. Alas ! they had scarcely 
any other subject left them. The time of national glory — of 
national prosperity — was gone. They were the voice of an 
oppressed and down-trodden people, therefore did the Irish 
bard answer : 

" Oh, blame not the bard, if he fly to the bowers 

Where pleasure lies carelessly smiling at fame ; 
He was born for much more, and, in happier hours, 

His soul might have burned with a holier flame. 
The string which now languishes loose o'er the lyre. 

Might have bent a proud bow to the warrior's dart ; 
And the lip which now breathes but the song of desire, 

Might have poured the full tide of a patriot's heart." 

Yes ; they did not content themselves, these bards, with merely 
animating the national purpose, and thrilling and rousing the 
national heart and courage. They did more. In the day of 
battle and danger, when they sounded the tocsin for the war 
and for the fight, then the bards that could have awakened, and 
did awaken, the tenderest strains of song, were foremost in the 
battle-field, fighting for Erin. It is more than an idle tradition, 
that which is embodied in the poet's verse : 

" The minstrel boy to the war has gone ; 

In the ranks of death you'll find him ; 
His father's sword he has girded on, 

And his wild harp slung behind him. 
* Land of song,' cried the warrior bard, 

' Though all the world betrays thee, 
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, 

One faithful harp shall praise thee.' 



The National Music of Ireland. 



389 



" The minstrel fell, but the foeman's chain 
Could not bring his proud soul under, 
The harp he loved ne'er spoke again, 

For he tore its chords asunder ; 
And said, ' No chains shall sully thee, 

Thou soul of love and bravery ! 
Thy songs were made for the pure and free, 
They shall never sound in slaveiy.' " 

From the day that the Norman invader first set foot on the 
soil of Ireland — we have the testimony of history for it ; the 
Irish bards and minstrels — Irish to their heart's core — were in 
the habit of coming into the English camp, and playing their 
national Irish airs. The English knew that these men were 
their enemies ; they had orders from the king to arrest any 
harper that came into the camp, because they came only as spies, 
to find out the strength and disposition of their forces ; yet, 
O glory of Ireland ! so sweet was the performance of these men, 
so melodious their music, that, in spite of the royal decrees, the 
English soldiers, officers, and generals, used to go out to look 
for these harpers and bring them into the camp. Giraldus 
Cambrensis, who wrote a History of Ireland — was obliged to 
admit there was no such music heard in the world. This 
people, however," he says, deserves to be praised for their suc- 
cessful cultivation of music, in which their skill is beyond com- 
parison superior to that of every nation we have seen." The 
statutes of Kilkenny in 1367, forbade the Irish minstrels to 
enter the English pale, and made it penal to give them shelter 
or entertainment ; and yet King Henry the Sixth complains that 
his Irish subjects persist in paying grandia bona et dona,'' 
great gifts and offerings, in exchange for Irish music, and so he 
ordered his marshal in Ireland, to imprison all the harpers he 
could lay hands on. Queen Elizabeth, following in the foot- 
steps of her holy and accomplished father, imitating him in 
everything, even in her immaculate purity, passed another law. 
She said, ''We never can conquer Ireland and we can never 
make Ireland Protestant as long as the minstrels are there ;" 
and she passed a law that they were all to be hung : and there 
was a certain lord in her court, with, I regret to say, an Irish 
title, my Lord Barrymore, who promised to do this ; and was 
appointed, and took out a commission to hang every man that 
was a harper. Why? Because the same spirit by which the 



390 



TJie National Music of Ireland. 



bard and minstrel had kept the nation up to its national contest, 
now turned its attention to the other element of discord, and 
when the' national war became a religious war, the bard proved 
as Catholic as he was Irish. 

There are two ideas in the mind of every true Irishman, and 
these two ideas England never was able to root out of the land, 
nor out of the intellect, nor out of the hearts of the Irish people. . 
And these two ideas are : Ireland IS A NATION. That is num- 
ber one. Ireland is a Catholic Nation ; and so will she 
remain. Plundered of our property, they made us poor. . We 
preferred poverty rather than deny our religion, and become 
renegades to God. Our schools were taken from us, and they 
thought they could reduce us thereby to a state of beastly 
ignorance. They made it a crime for an Irishman to teach his 
son how to read. Our religion kept us enlightened in spite of ^ 
them. England never, never succeeded in affixing the stain of 
degradation and ignorance upon the Irish people. They robbed 
us of liberty as well as of property ; they robbed us of life ; they 
took the best sons of the land, and slaughtered them ; they took 
the holy priests from the altars, and slaughtered them ; they took 
our bishops, the glorious men of old, and slew them. When 
Ireton entered Limerick, he found O'Brien, the Bishop of Emly 
— a saint of God — found him there, where an Irish bishop ought 
to be, in the midst of his people, rallying them to the fight, 
sending them into the breach again and again. They took 
O'Brien, the Irish bishop, brought him into the open street, be- 
fore his people, and they slaughtered him, as a butcher would 
slaughter a beast. They took Bishop O'Hurley, and brought 
him to Stephen's Green, in Dublin, and there tied him to a 
stake, and roasted him to death at a slow fire. They took six 
hundred of my own brave brethren — Dominicans — brave, true 
men, Irishmen all. Elizabeth of England, wherever you are to- 
night, I believe you have the blood of these six hundred priests 
upon you — all except four ! There were only four left ! Think 
of this ! They thought that when an Irishman was completely 
crushed, he ought to buy at least an acre of land, the land that 
belonged to him, or a morsel of bread to feed his family, by 
becoming a Protestant. The Irish — men and women — declared 
that their religion and their faith was dearer to them than their 
lives. The Irish peasant man — pure, strong, warlike, determined. 



The National Music of Ireland. 



391 



high-minded, true to his God, true to his native land, true to his 
fellow-men, knelt down before the ruined shrine of the Catholic 
Church that he loved, and to that Church he said : 

" Through grief and through danger thy smile hath cheered my way, 
Till hope seemed to bud from each thorn that round me lay ; 
The darker our fortune, the brighter our pure love burned. 
Till shame into glory, till fear into zeal was turned. 
Yes, slave as I was, 'n\ thine arms my spirit felt free. 
And bless'd even the sorrows that made me more dear to thee. 

" Thy rival was honored, while thou wert wronged and scorned ; 
Thy crown was of briars, while gold her brows adorned ; 
She wooed me to temples, while thou lay'st hid in caves ; 
Her friends were all masters, while thine, alas ! were slaves. 
Yet cold in the earth, at thy feet, I would rather be. 
Than wed what I love not, or turn one thought from thee." 

All this time England recognized in the Irish bards, not only 
the enemies of her dominion, which would fain extinguish the 
nationality of Ireland, but, still more, the enemies of her reform- 
ed Protestant religion, which would rob Ireland of her ancient 
faith, which she received from her Apostle. The bards lived on, 
however. In spite of Henry VIII., in spite of Elizabeth, and in 
spite of my Lord Barrymore, who took the contract, as hangman, 
to dispose of them, they lived on down to the time of Carolan, 
who died in 1738 ; and we have in Jameison's letters from Scot- 
land the testimony of a man who says, that the Scotch, in the 
memory of living men in his time, used to go over to Ireland 
to study music. Handel, the great composer, one of the greatest 
giants of modern song, went over to London ; he was coldly re- 
ceived. He wen4; from England to stay in Dublin, where he 
was so warmly received, and found every note of his music so 
thoroughly appreciated, that he immediately set to work and 
wrote that immortal work — the Oratorio of the Messiah, under 
the inspiration of an Irish welcome. This grandest of all 
modern pieces was first brought out in Dublin, before an Irish 
audience. 

Carolan, the last of the bards, died but a few years before 
Moore was born. It seemed as if the last star in the firmament 
of Ireland's bards had set. It seemed indeed as if 

" The harp that once through Tara's halls. 
The soul of music shed. 
Now hung as mute on Tara's walls 
As if that soul were fled." 



I 



392 The National Music of Ireland, 

But that star of Ireland's song, Tom Moore, greatest of Ireland's 
modern poets, immortalized himself as well as the songs of his 
country in his famous Irish Melodies. Where have you ever 
heard such simple yet entrancing melodies. The greatest men 
among modern composers have a knowledge that this music has 
a melody of its own which cannot be equalled. Some of these 
melodies are as ancient as Ireland's Christianity ; others are said 
to date from remote pagan times. So fair and beautiful is the 
melody of Eileen a Roon," which was composed in the thir- 
teenth century, by the minstrel O'Daly, that the immortal 
Handel declared he would rather be the author of that simple 
melody than of all the works that ever came from his pen or 
from his mind. They are sung in every land. They are admired 
wherever the influence of music extends. Even in our own 
modern times, they have softened and prepared the English 
mind to grant us Catholic Emancipation. Of course the most 
powerful motive of that measure, as experience has proved, was 
fear. That is the principal motive for any concession we receive 
from England. But certain it is that the Irish songs and melodies 
of the old Irish bards popularized the Irish character in England, 
and enabled us the more easily to gain that which was wrung 
from England's king and England, through the sympathy that 
was created by Moore's melodies. Hence it is that he himself 
expresses the anguish yet the hope of the bard — - 

" But, tho' glory be gone, and though hope fade away, 

Thy name, loved Erin ! shall live in his songs ; 
Not even in the hour when his heart is most gay, 

Will he lose the remembrance of thee and tRy wrongs. 
The stranger shall hear thy lament on his plains ; 

The sigh of thy harp shall be sent o'er the deep, 
Till thy masters themselves, as they rivet thy chains, 

Shall pause at the song of their captive, and weep ! " 

Music is the most spiritual of all human enjoyments. The 
pleasures of the taste are gross ; the pleasures of the eye are 
dangerous ; the pleasures of the ear, the delight of listening to 
strains of sweet song, is at once the most entrancing and least 
dangerous of all the pleasures of sense. You may enjoy most 
the pleasure of music without sensuality — it is scarcely capa- 
ble of exciting any undue emotion of the heart or temptation of 
the mind. Nay more — we know from the Scriptures that music, 



TJie National Music of Ireland, 



393 



that song, is the native language of heaven, as it is the natural 
and untaught expression of man upon the earth. We know, that 
as music recalls the most vivid and tender recollections of earth, 
so that the dead start from their graves and throng once more 
the halls of memory at the sound of the well-known song, so also 
we know the joy of even the blessed angels of God is expressed 
in the language of Divine and celestial song. It was a theory of 
old that the very spheres moved to a grand harmony of their 
own, whereupon our national bard sang — 

" Sing — sing — music was given 
To brighten the gay and kindle the loving ; 

Souls here — like planets in heaven — 
By harmony's laws alone are kept moving." 

But that which is a simple theory of the spheres of the lower 
firmament, is to be received as a reality when we regard the 
harmony of the Divine sphere of heaven. There the angels 
sing the praises of God — there the air of heaven is resonant with 
cries of joy, with the sweet concord of many sounds, mingled 
with the angelic harpers upon their harps. Oh, let us hope that 
as we, as a nation, have the privilege amongst the nations to 
hold in our national melodies the sweetest and tenderest strains 
of human song, so may we, as children of that nation and land 
of song, carry our taste with us into the field of the purest of 
melodies, and that those who sang best upon earth may sing 
best in the courts of God. In vain would Ireland's song be the 
brightest of all earthly melody, unless that song were to be 
perpetuated in the higher echoes and grander melodies of 
heaven. Have we not reason to believe those bards and heroes 
who stood in the hour of battle and danger and difficulty for 
their home and their national liberty, for God and their native 
land, and died for it, have we not good reason to believe that 
these children of song have joined the higher and celestial choir? 
Yes, Ireland's minstrels sang the apostolic song of faith, the 
virgin song from the lips of the holy St. Bridget — the song of 
the holy, pure, stainless daughters of Erin, who are now, as in 
days past, our joy and glory ; their song was the sweetest on 
earth, and I have no doubt will be the sweetest in heaven. Let 
us, therefore, cling to the loved old land that made heroes of 
them, to the love of our old religion that made saints of them ; 



\ 



394 



TJie National Music of Ireland. 



let us remember that every Irishman, all the world over, and 
every son of an Irishman, and every grandson of an Irishman — 
has that blood in his veins which brings to him the re- 
sponsibility and the tradition of fifteen hundred years of national, 
as well as religious glory; the responsibility through which our 
fathers from their graves appeal to us for God and for Erin ; 
the noblest, the best blood in which a pure nationality, always 
preserved and left distinct, is sanctified by the highest purity 
of an unchanged and unchanging faith. That is the glory of 
every Irishman in the world: and it brings a responsibility; for 
such a man is obliged, beyond all other men, to live up to these 
traditions, and show that he is no degenerate scion of such a 
race. I have come here amongst you, and on my return to 
Ireland, I will bear in my heart the joy and on my lips the glad 
message that you, my friends, are no degenerate sons of Ireland. 
I will bring home to cheer the saddened hearts at home — I will 
bring home to gladden the expectant hearts at home, the good 
and the manly and the glorious message, that I have met thous- 
ands and thousands of Irishmen in America ; but that, amid all 
the rising glories of their new country, I have not met one who 
had forgotten his love or his affection for the land of his birth. 
If such a one there be, if such an Irishman exist, so forgetful 
of the history, so dead to the glory of his native land, as to be 
ashamed of being an Irishman, if such a man be in existence 
in this country — he has spared me the pain, the humiliation, 
and the disgust of showing himself to me. 

And now, my friends, having invited your attention to the 
subject of Ireland's national music, let me wind up with one or 
two reflections similar to those with which I began. Irish song 
has played a large part not only in the strengthening of Ireland's 
sons, but also in the conciliation of Ireland's most bitter ene- 
mies. Although Moore made every true heart and every true 
and noble mind in the world melt into sorrow at the contempla- 
tion of Ireland's wrongs, and the injustice that she suffered, as 
they came home to every sympathetic heart upon the wings of 
Ireland's ancient melody — yet he said to the harp of his coun- 
try : 

" Go sleep with the sunshine of fame on thy slumbers, 
Till waked by some hand less unworthy than mine." 

A hand less unworthy came — a hand less unworthy than 



The National Music of h'cland. 



395 



Thomas Moore's — a hand more loyal and true than even his 
was — when in Ireland's lays appeared the immortal Thomas 
Davis. He and the men whose hearts beat with such high hope 
for Young Ireland — seized the sad, silent harp of Erin, and sent 
forth another thrill in the invitation to the men of the North 
to join hands with their Catholic brethren — to the men of the 
South to remember the ancient glories of ^' Brian the Brave." 
To the men of Connaught, he seemed to call forth Roderick 
O'Conor from his grave at Clonmacnoise. He rallied Ireland 
in that year so memorable for its hopes and for the blighting of 
those hopes. He and the men of the Nation did what this world 
has never seen in the same space of time, by the sheer power of 
Irish genius, by the sheer strength of Young Ireland's intellect ; 
the Nation of '43 created a national poetry, a national literature, 
which no other country can equal. Under the magic voices and 
pens of these men, every ancient glory of Ireland stood forth 
again. I remember it well. I was but a boy at the time ; but 
I remember with what startled enthusiasm I would arise from 
reading Davis's Poems ;" and it would seem to me that before 
my young eyes I saw the dash of the Brigade at Fontenoy. 
It would seem to me as if my young ears were filled with the 
shout that resounded at the Yellow Ford and Benburb — the 
war cry of the Red Hand, i-<^") Oe<vr5 abu_as the English 
hosts were swept away, and, like snow under the beams of the 
hot sun, melted away before the Irish onset. The dream of 
the poet — the aspiration of the true Irish heart — is yet unful- 
filled. But remember, that there is something sacred in the 
poet's dream. The inspiration of genius is second only to the 
inspiration of religion. There is something sacred and infalli- 
ble — with all our human fallibility — in the hope of a nation that 
has never allowed the hope of freedom to be extinguished. 
For many a long year, day and night, the sacred fire that was 
enkindled before St. Bridget's shrine, at Kildare, was fed, and 
sent its pure flame up to heaven. The day came when that fire 
was extinguished. But the fire that has burned for nearly a 
thousand years upon the altar of Ireland's nationality, fed with 
the people's hopes, fed with the people's prayers, that fire has 
never been extinguished, even though torrents of the nation's 
blood were poured out upon it ; that fire burns to-day ; and 
that fire will yet illumine Ireland. 



39^ 



The National Music of Ireland. 



I will conclude with one word. Even as King Lir's lonely 
daughter, Fionnuala, sighed for the beaming of the day-star, so 
do I sigh. When shall that day-star of freedom, mildly spring- 
ing, light and warm our isle with peace and love ? When shall 
the bell of sacred liberty ringing, call every Irish heart from out 
the grave of slavery — from out the long, miserable night of ser- 
vitude — to walk in the full blaze of our national freedom and 
our national glory? Oh, may it come ! O God, make our cause 
thy cause ! I speak as a priest as well as an Irishman ; I claim, 
in my prayer, to that God to whom my people have been so 
faithful — to give us not only that crown of eternity to which we 
look forward in the Christian's hope — but. Oh, to give us, in 
His justice, that crown of national liberty and glory to which 
we have established our right by so many ages of fidelity. 



THE RESURRECTION. 




" And when the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene, and Mary, the mother of 
James and Silome, bought sweet spices, that, coming, they might anoint Jesus. And 
very early in the morning, the first day of the week, they came to the sepulchre, the 
sun being now risen. And they said one to another, Who shall roll us back the 
stone from the door of the sepulchre ? And, looking, they saw the stone rolled back ; 
for it was very great. And entering into the sepulchre they saw a young man sitting 
on the right side, clothed with a white robe. And they were astonished. And he 
said to them : Be not affrighted. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He 
is risen, He is not here. Behold the place where they laid Him. But, go ; tell His 
disciples, and Peter, that He goeth before you into Galilee. There you shall see Him, 
as He told you." 

EARLY BELOVED BRETHREN :— We are told, in 
the history of the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
which we have been considering during the past few days 
— that after our Saviour had yielded up His spirit upon 
the cross, Joseph of Arimathea went to Pilate and demanded 
the body of the Lord. Pilate was surprised to hear that our 
Divine Lord was already dead. And yet, if he had only con- 
sulted his own memory, and remembered how the life was 
almost scourged out of the Saviour by the hands of the soldiers, 
it would not have seemed to him so wonderful that the three 
hours of agony should have closed that life. He sent to inquire 
if He was already dead ; and gave orders that, in case He was 
dead, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus were to take pos- 
session of His body. They came, sorrowing, and again climbed 
the Hill of Calvary; and, lest there might be any doubt that 
the Master was dead, the soldier drove his lance once through 
the heart of our Lord Jesus Christ. Then the body was taken 
down from the cross. They took out the nails, gently and 
tenderly ; and they handed them down, and they were put into 



398 



TJie Resurrection. 



the hands of the Virgin Mother. They took the body reverent- 
ly from its high gibbet, and laid the thorn-crowned head upon 
the bosom of the Virgin, who waited to receive it. With her 
own hands she removed these thorns from His brow ; and the 
fountain of tears, that had been dried up because of the great- 
ness of her sorrow, flows now, and rains the Virgin's tears upon 
the stained and disfigured face of her child. Then they brought 
Him to a garden in the neighborhood ; and there they laid 
Him in the tomb. It was another man's grave ; and He, the 
Lord, had no right to it. But He died so poor, that, even in 
death, He had no place whereon to lay His head, until charity 
opened another man's tomb for Him. There they laid Him 
down; and, covered with blood and with wounds — all disfigured 
and deformed, they laid Him down, like the patriarch of old, 
with a stone for His pillow ; and upon that stone they laid the 
w^ounded and the blessed head of the Lord. They closed the 
sepulchre. Mary, the mother, gathered up the thorns, the nails, 
the instruments with which her child was so cruelly maimed 
and put to death ; and with them pressed to her heart, and 
leaning upon her newly-found son, John, she returned to her 
sad home in Jerusalem ; and all, having adored, silently dis- 
persed, for the evening was coming that brought the Sabbath. 
One only remained. The heart-broken Magdalen lay down 
outside the tomb, and laid her head upon the stone which they 
had rolled against the Master's grave. There, she knew, He 
lay ; and the instinct of her love, and of her sorrow, was so 
strong that she could not go away from the tomb of her Lord, 
but remained there, weeping and alone. Whilst she wept, 
evening deepened into night ; and, alone, the heart-broken lover 
of Jesus Christ saw that she must rise and depart. She rose. 
She kissed, again and again, that great stone that enclosed, her 
Divine Saviour ; and, turning to the city, she heard the heavy, 
measured tread of the soldiers, who came with the night to 
guard the tomb. They closed around the tomb. With rude- 
ness and with violence they drove the woman away — wondering 
at her tears, and the evidence of her broken heart. And then, 
piling their arms and their spears, they settled down to the night- 
watch, cautioned not to sleep — cautioned to take care not to let 
a human being come near that grave until the morning light. 
Excited by their own superstitious fears and emotions (for it 



The Resurrection. 



399 



was, indeed, a strange office for these warriors to be set on 
guard over a dead man), agitated by the strangeness of their 
position, excited by their fears, they slept not, but, waiting the 
night, watchfully, diligently, and with vigilance, they guard on 
the right hand and on the left ; scarcely knowing who was to 
come; fearing with an undefined fear ; thinking that, perhaps, 
it was to be a phantom, a spirit, an evil thing of the night 
coming upon them ; and ever ready to grasp their arms, and 
put themselves on their defence. 

The night fell, deep and heavy, over the tomb of Jesus 
Christ. The whole of that night, and of the following day, they 
kept their watch. Mary, the mother, was in Jerusalem. Kneel- 
ing before these instruments of the passion, she spent the whole 
of that night, and the whole of the following Sabbath-day, 
weeping over those thorns and over those nails ; contemplating 
them, examining them, and seeing, from the evidence of the 
blood that was upon them, how deeply they had been struck 
into the brow, and into the hands and feet of Jesus, her divine 
child; her heart breaking within her, as every glance at these 
terrible instruments of the Passion brought up all the horrors 
which she had witnessed on that morning of Friday, on the 
Mount of Calvary. The women kept watch and ward round 
her, and so terrible was the mother's grief, that even the Mag- 
dalen was silenced and hushed, and dared not obtrude one 
word of consolation upon the Virgin's ear. 

The Sabbath passed away. Dull and heavy the black cloud 
that had settled over Calvary and over Jerusalem, was lifted up. 
Men walked about with fear and with trembling. The sun 
seemed to have scarely risen that Sabbath morning. The dead 
who started from their graves the moment Jesus gave his last 
cry on the cross, flitted in the darkening night to and fro in the 
silent streets of Jerusalem. Men beheld the awful vision of these 
skeleton bodies that rose from the grave. A fire of vengeance 
and of fury seerned to glare in the empty sockets in their heads. 
They showed their white teeth, gnashing, as it would seem, over 
the crime that the people had committed. They flitted to and 
fro. All Jerusalem was filled with fear and terror. No man 
spoke above his breath, and all was silent during that long Sab- 
bath day, that brought no joy, because the people had called 
down the blood of the Saviour upon their heads. The Sabbath 



400 



TJie Resurrection. 



day and evening had closed ; and again night was recumbent 
upon the earth. The guard is reHeved. Fresh soldiers are put 
at the doors. They are again cautioned that this is the impor- 
tant night when they must watch with redoubled vigilance, be- 
cause this night will seal the Redeemer's fate. He said, I will 
rise again in three days ; " and, if the morning sun of the first 
day of the week — ^^the Sunday — rise upon the undisturbed grave 
of the dead man, then all that He has preached was a lie, and 
all the wonders that He wrought were a deception upon the peo- 
ple. Therefore the guards were trebly cautioned to keep watch. 
Then, filled with fear and with an undefined alarm, they close 
around the sepulchre, resolved that so long as hand of theirs can 
wield a spear, no human being shall approach that grave. The 
Magdalen lingered round, fascinated by the knowledge that her 
Redeemer and her Lord was there in that tomb which she was 
not allowed to approach. And the guards watched patiently, 
vigilantly, with sleepless eyes ; and the night came down and all 
the city was silent and darkened. Hour followed hour. Slowly 
and silently time rolls away. The night was deepening to its 
deepest gloom. The midnight hour approached. The moment 
comes when the third day in the tomb is accomplished. The 
moment comes when the Sabbath was over — the Sabbath of 
which it was written, that " the Lord rested on the seventh day 
from all his works." That Sabbath had Jesus Christ made in 
that dreary, silent tomb. Wounds and blood were upon Him. 
The weakness of death had fastened upon Him. Those lifeless 
limbs cannot move. The sightless eyes cannot open to behold 
the light of day. Death, indeed, seems to have rioted in its tri- 
umph over the Eternal Lord of Life, and hell appears victorious 
in the destruction of the victim. The midnight hour approaches. 
The guards hear the rustling of the coming storm. They see 
the trees bow their heads in that garden, and waive to and fro, 
as by a violent trembling. They see them bending as if a storm 
was sweeping over them. They look. What is this orient light 
that blushes upon the horizon? What is this light which bursts 
upon them, bright, bright as the sun of heaven, bright as ten 
thousand suns ? And whilst the light flashes upon them, and, 
dazzled, they close their eyes, they hear a riot of voices : Gloria 
in Excelsis ! Alleluia to the risen Saviour! " What is this that 
they behold? The great stone comes rolling back from the 



The Resurrection. 



401 



mouth of the monument into the midst of them ! Save your- 
selves, O men ! Save yourselves or it will crush you ! The 
men are frightened and alarmed. Is it the power of heaven ! 
Or is it a force from hell ? Presently, forth from that tomb 
bursts the glorified and risen Saviour ! Their eyes are dazzled 
with the spectacle of the Man that lay in that cold, silent, dark 
grave. A voice was heard : " Arise, for I am come for thee ! " 
And the glorified soul of the Saviour, entering that moment into 
His body — bursts triumphant from the grave ! Death and hell 
fly from before His face. Fly, for a power is here that you 
cannot command ! Fly, you demons, who rejoiced in your 
triumph, for death and hell are conquered. Arise, glorious sun, 
from the tomb ! Oh, what do I behold ? Where, O Saviour, is 
the sign of the agony ? Where is the disfigurement of blood ? 
Where is the sign of the executioner's hand upon Thee ? It is 
gone — gone ! No longer the blood-stained thorn defiles Thy 
brows ! No longer thy sacred flesh hanging torn from the bones ! 
No ! But now triumphant, glorified, incorruptible, impassible. 
He has resumed the grandeur and the glory which He put away 
from Him on the day of His incarnation ; and He rises from the 
tomb, the conqueror of death and hell, the God and Redeemer 
of the world ! 

Behold, my brethren, how sorrow is changed into joy ! Burst- 
ing forth in the light of His divinity. He went His way — the 
way of His eternity. The mountains, the hills of Judea — of 
Jerusalem — bowed down before Him. The mountains moved 
and rocked on their bases before the assertion of Thy sovereignty, 
O God ! He went His way, and left behind Him an empty grave 
and the clothing in which His disfigured body had been wrapped 
up. An empty grave ! But all the angels in heaven were look- 
ing on at that moment. At that moment, when the face of the 
glorified Saviour burst from the grave, all the angels of heaven 
put forth alleluias of joy and of praise. The heart of the Father 
in heaven exulted. Rising upon His eternal throne, He sent 
forth a cry of joy over the glory of His Son. All the angels in 
heaven exulted ; and, triumphing, they came down to earth, 
and gazed upon the sacred spot wherein their Master and their 
God had lain. 

The morning came, and the dark clouds had disappeared. The 
veiy brows of Olivet seemed to shine with a solemn gladness, 

26 



402 



TJie Resurrection. 



and the cedars of Lebanon seemed to lift their heads with a new 
instinct of Hfe — almost of love and joy. Calvary itself seemed 
to rejoice. The morning rose, and the sun gladly came up from 
his home in' the east, and his first rays fell upon the empty 
grave. And behold the Magdalen and the other pious follow- 
ers of our Lord, coming with ointment and sweet spices to 
anoint Him. They came ; and questioning — as we have seen — 
questioning each other : How could Mary, with nothing but her 
woman's strength, how could Mary move that stone ? But see ; 
it is moved. And beneath they behold an angel of God. His 
light fills the tomb. There is no darkness there, no sign of sad- 
ness, no sign of death. Robed in transparent white — even as the 
garments of our Lord shone upon Tabor — so did he shine as he 
kept guard over the deathbed of his Lord and Master. Then, 
speaking to the woman, he says : " Woman, whom seekest thou ?" 
''Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified." "Why seekest thou 
the living amongst the dead? He is not here! He is risen !" 
And then their hearts were filled with a mighty joy; for the 
Master is risen ; whilst the soldiers, frightened and crestfallen, 
went into Jerusalem, loudly proclaiming the appearance to the 
Pharisees and to the people, and that He whom they were set 
to guard was the Lord of light and life, and the son of God. 

The eyes that were oppressed with the weariness of death 
are now lifted up, shining in the glory of His resurrection. The 
hands that were nailed helplessly to the cross, now wield 
again the omnipotence of God. The heart that was broken 
and oppressed now enters into the mighty ocean of the ages 
of His divinity, undisturbed, unfettered, unencumbered by any 
sorrow. " Christ, risen from the dead, dies no more. Death 
has no more dominion over him." ^ He died once, and He died 
for sin. " Therefore," says St. Augustine, " by dying on Cal- 
vary He showed that He was man ; by rising from His grave 
He proved that He was God." 

If, therefore, dearly beloved brethren, during the past forty 
days the Church has called upon us for fasting and mortifica- 
tion, has called upon us to chastise our bodies and humble our 
souls humiliabam in jejnnio animam nieam,'") ''In my fast I 
humble my soul" — if the Church, during the past weeks, called 
upon us to be afflicted, and to shed our tears at the feet of Jesus 
crucified — if we have done this — above all, if we have purified 



TJic Resurrection. 



403 



our souls so as to let His light, and His glory, and His grace 
into our hearts — to-day, have we a right to rejoice, and the 
message which I bring to you is a message of exceeding great 
joy. Christ is risen I The Crucified has risen from the grave ! 
Weakness has clothed itself with strength. Ignominy hath 
clothed itself with glory. Death has been absorbed in victory, 
and the powers of hell are crushed and confounded for evermore. 
Is not this a message of great joy and triumph ? And truly I 
may say to you, in the words of St. Paul, ''Gemdete in Doniinc 
iterum dico gaiidete'' — " Rejoice, therefore, in the Lord I I say 
to you again, rejoice !" 

Two reasons have we for our Easter joy and gladness. Two 
reasons have we for our great rejoicing. First of all, that of the 
friend to behold the glory of his friend ; the joy of a disciple to 
see the glory of his ^Master : a joy centering in Jesus Christ — 
rejoicing in Him and with Him, for His own sake. Was it not 
for His own sake we sorrowed ? Was it not because of His 
grief and suffering we shed our tears and cast ourselves down 
before Him ? So, also, for His own sake, let us rejoice. We 
rejoice to behold our God reassuming the glory of His divinity, 
and so participate that glory to His sacred humanity that the 
sunshine of the eternal light of God streams out from every 
member, sense, and limb of the sacred body of Jesus Christ our 
Lord. Pure light it seemed. With the transparency of heaven 
it assumed all its splendor. All the glory was within Him in 
Almighty affluence, and sent itself forth so that He was truly 
not only the light of grace for the world but the light of glor}*. 
For this must every true believer in Jesus Christ rejoice. 

But the second cause of our joy Is for our own sake ; for, 
although we grieve for Him and sorrow for Him, for His own 
sake, upon Calvary, we also grieve for ourselves. And it is, for 
us, the keenest and the bitterest sorrow that the work of Calvary 
was the work of our doing by our sins ; that if we were not what 
we were, He would never have been what He was on that Friday 
morning. That for us He bared His innocent bosom to receive 
all the sorrows and all the agonies of His Passion ; that for us 
did He expose His virgin body to that fearful scourging and 
terrible crucifixion ; that for our sins did He languish upon the 
cross ; that they put upon Him the burden of the iniquities of 
us all ; and He was afflicted for our iniquities and was bruised 



404 



TJi c Resit rrectio ?i . 



for our sins." It was for our own sorrows and our own sins that 
the very deepest sorrow has a place in the Crucifixion. Well 
did He — He, who permitted that we should be the cause of His 
sorrow — wish us, also, for our own sake, to participate in His 
joy. And why ? Because the resurrection of Jesus from the 
dead was not only the proof of His divinity, the establishment 
of His truth, the conviction of His miracles, the foundation of 
His religion, but it was, moreover, the type and model of the 
glorious resurrection that awaits every man who dies in the love, 
and fear, and grace of Jesus Christ. Every man who preserves 
his soul pure, and every man who restores to his soul the purity 
of repentance — to every such man is promised the glory of the 
resurrection, like unto that of our Lord Jesus Christ. For as 
Christ rose from the dead, so shall we rise ; and as He clothed 
Himself with glory, so shall we pass from glory into glor}^ — 
to see Christ in the air — to be like unto Him in glory; and so 
shall we be with the Lord for ever. And that glory which 
comes to our Lord to-day, comes not only to His grand soul 
returning surrounded by the saints whom He had delivered 
from their prison, but it comes also to His body, wiping away 
and erasing every stain, every defilement, every wound, and 
communicating to that body the attributes of the spirit ; for 
"That which was laid down in dishonor rose in glory" — that 
which was laid down in weakness rose in power — that which 
was laid down subject to grief, if not to corruption, rose a 
spiritual and incorruptible body. Even so shall we rise — for I 
announce to you a wonderful thing, that when the angels sound 
the trumpet, and call the dead to judgment, they that are in 
Christ shall rise first ; and as the soul of the Redeemer went 
back to the tomb, and entered into His body, to make that body 
shine in its spiritual glory — so shall our souls return from the 
heights of heavenly contemplation to find these bodies again — 
to re-enter them — and to make them shine with the glory of 
God, if we only consent to live and die in the grace and favor 
of Jesus Christ. The eyes that now cannot look upon the sun 
in heaven without being blinded, these very eyes can gaze upon 
the face of God and not be blinded by His majesty. The ears 
that now weary of the music of earth shall be so attuned to the 
music of heaven that the rapture of its hearing will continue in 
all the ecstasy of delight, so long as God is God. The heart. 



The Resurrection. 



405 



now so circumscribed as scarcely to be able to rise to the di<^nity 
of the highest form of human love — will then be so purified and 
exalted that it will be filled with the fairest forms of divine love 
— purified, sanctified, animating every natural sentiment, every 
affection, until the body, growing into the soul's essence, shall 
all become spiritual and, as it were, divine. In a word, this 
gross, corruptible, material body of ours shall be so spiritualized 
— so glorified — so refined, as to be capable of the most exquisite 
pleasure of every spiritual sense ; and yet pleasures purifying to 
the soul, in which every thought and every power of the soul 
and body shall be wrapped up into God. 

But mark, dear brethren ; the resurrection of our Lord is the 
pledge and promise that every soul shall realize ; but two things 
are necessary in order to arrive at this glory. Two conditions 
are laid down in order to attain to this wonderful fulfillment of 
all the love of the redemption of Jesus Christ. And these two 
things are: First of all, we must keep a pure soul and a pure 
conscience. Mark how Jesus Christ came to His glory; He 
took a human heart. He took a human soul. He took a hu- 
man conscience — for He was true man. But He took every ele- 
ment of His humanity from a source so pure, so limpid, so holy, 
that, in heaven or on earth, nothing Avas ever seen or ever shall 
be seen until the end of eternity that shall be compared with the 
blessed Virgin's son. Throughout His whole life of thirty- 
three years, nothing in it could have the slightest shadow^ of 
sin — nothing that could have the slightest feature of sin upon it, 
ever was allow^ed to come near the blessed and most immacu- 
late soul and heart of Jesus Christ. When at last He permitted 
the appearance of the sin that was not His own to come upon 
Him — to touch Him nearly — it so frightened Him — it so horri- 
fied Him — that the blood burst, as w^e know, from every pore 
of His body. It seemed as if His body, as it were, could not 
stand the sight ; His was the grace of purity. Oh, my beloved 
brethren, that we might attain to that self-same purity, as far as 
our nature will permit us, that we might only know the beaut}* 
of that purity beaming from Him as its author and creator I 
Christ, our Lord, laid out in His church the path of purit}' — the 
path of innocence. But for all those who fall, or stumble, or turn 
aside fora moment, He has built another royal road to salvation, 
namely, the road of penance. One or other of these must we 



TJic Resm-rection. 



tread ; whether we tread the way of purity or the way of pen- 
ance, we must suffer with Christ if we wish to be purified with 
Him. But mark ! All pure and holy as He was— infinite purity 
and holiness itself — no passion to disturb Him — no evil example 
to exercise its influence over Him — no secret emotion of pleas- 
ure, even of that purely human pleasure, to come and interfere 
in the remotest degree with the perfect union with His divinity 
— yet, with all this. He mortified that sacred body ; He fasted ; 
He humbled Himself; He prayed ; and He ended by giving that 
body to be scourged and to be crucified ! He shed His blood. 
What an example was this! That body of Jesus Christ was no 
impediment to His holiness. It only helped Him ; for it was the 
instrument of His divine will in the salvation of man. Our 
bodies, on the other hand, impede us every day, and put be- 
tween us and God. Every passion that dwells within us, rises 
from time to time to separate us from God. Every appetite 
that clamors for enjoyment would fain destroy the soul for ever, 
for a momentary pleasure. Every sense that brings thought 
and idea to the spirit brings also in its train the imminent, the 
dangerous, the poisonous image of the evil example of sin. 
That which, with Christ, was a work of pleasure, is, with us, a 
work of toil. It is toil to deny ourselves somewhat — to put the 
sign of the cross, in penance and mortification, upon this flesh — 
to enter somewhat into the sufferings of our Lord — into His fast- 
ing — into His prayer — into His mortification — in order that our 
bodies may be chastened ; for it is only chastened bodies that 
can contain pure and sinless souls. Those who are pure must 
chastise their bodies somewhat — must deny themselves — in 
order to preserve their purity. Those who are penitent must 
do it in order to appease the justice of God upon that body 
w^hich has led them away, some time or other, from God by sin, 
and so tended to destroy the soul. And this is the reason why 
the Catholic Church commands us to fast ; that it tells us we must 
not enjoy overmuch the pleasures of the theatre ; the pleasures 
of gay and festive reunions. It tells us that w^e must, from time to 
time, be hungry, and yet not taste food— that we must be 
thirsty, and yet refuse to refresh ourselves for a time with drink. 
And this, not only that these bodies may be chastened for a time, 
but transformed into fitness for the glory of heaven. And here 
I would remark that whilst every other religion, whilst every 



TJie Resurrection. 



407 



false religion, pats away sadness and sorrow, puts away the 
precept of fasting, and says that men may pander to, and feed, 
and cherish their bodies, the Catholic Church, alone, from the 
very first day of its existence, drew the sword of the spirit — the 
sword of mortification — and declares throuq-h her monks, througrh 
her hermits, through her virgins, through her priesthood, that the 
body must be subdued, it must be abased, it must be chastened, 
in order that the soul may rise to God by purity and grace here, 
and through them, to the spiritual glory of the resurrection 
hereafter. 

I say that there is a third motive for our joy this morning — 
and it is this : May I, dearly beloved, in this, which I may call 
the closing day of our Lent — may I congratulate those whom T 
see before me ! The constant attendance of many amongst you 
during the last forty evenings of Lent has made your faces 
familiar to me. Over these Catholic countenances have I seen 
from time to time, the expression — now, of sorrow — now, of 
delight — but, whether of sorrow or of joy, of sympathy with 
Jesus Christ. Of this am I a witness, and on this do I con- 
gratulate you. If it be true that the Christian man is, indeed, a 
man in whom Christ lives, according to the words of the Apos- 
tle : I live no longer, I, but Christ lives within me " — then, ac- 
cording to his words you are lost to yourselves ; you are dead ; 
and your life is hidden with Christ in God. If, then, the Chris- 
tian man be the man in whom Christ lives, well may I congratu- 
late you upon every emotion of joy and of sorrow that has 
passed through your hearts and over your faces during these 
forty blessed days that you have passed; because these emotions 
were the gift of Christ, and the evidence of the life of Christ in 
you, and of your familiarity with Christ's image. 

May I congratulate you on a good confession and a fervent 
communion? May I, in heart and spirit, bow down before 
every man amongst you to-day, as a man who holds in his 
bosom Jesus Christ; as a man whose heart is not an empty 
tomb, like that in the garden outside Jerusalem ; not occu- 
pied merely by an angel, but whose heart is the sanctuary 
wherein the risen and glorified Saviour dwells this morning? 
May I congratulate you on this ? I hope so ! I hope that the 
words that have been heard here have not been spoken in vain. 
It would fill me with fear if I thought there was one amongst 



4o8 



The Resitrrection. 



the audience who filled this church during the last Lent, whose 
hardened heart refused to make his Easter confession and com- 
munion ; and to make it as the beginning of a series of more 
frequent — and, if possible, of monthly confessions and com- 
munions. It would fill me with fear if I thought there was 
such a one here ; because then there would come upon me the 
conviction that it was my own unworthiness — my own unfit- 
ness — my own weakness that made the Word fall fruitless on 
my lips, and, perhaps, make me a reprobate whilst I was 
preaching the Word. But, no ! Nay, I will rather presume 
that God has done His own work — that the Divine Husband- 
man, who placed the seed of His Word in such hands as mine — 
most unworthy — that He has made that Word spring up, and 
that the fairest flowers of grace and sanctity already crown it in 
your hearts to-day. Upon this, therefore, I congratulate you 
as the third great motive of your joy ; that not only is the 
Saviour glorified in Jerusalem, but He is glorified in your hearts. 
Not only has He conquered death in the Garden of Gethsemane, 
but He has conquered death in your souls. Not only has He 
driven the devil and all the powers of hell before Him, as He 
burst from the tomb, but He has driven him from your hearts, 
into which He has entered this morning. Oh, brethren, keep 
Him ! Keep Him as your best and only friend ! Keep Him as 
you would keep the pledge of that future glory which is to come, 
and of which, says the Apostle, " Eye hath not seen and ear 
hath not heard ; nor hath it entered into the heart of man to 
conceive — what things the Lord God of heaven hath prepared 
for those who cease not to love Him ! " 



THE POPE'S TIARA-ITS PAST, 
PRESENT, AND FUTURE. 



[Lecture delivered in the Academy of Music, New York, under the auspices of 
the Council of the Catholic Union, Circle of New York ; the proceeds of the lecture 
to be sent to the Pope.] 

AY it please your Grace : Ladies and Gentlemen : The 
subject on which I propose to address you is : " The 
Pope's Tiara, or Triple Crown ; it Past, its Present, 
and its Future." We read of a celebrated orator of 
Greece, that the grandest effort he ever made was in a speech 
Avhich he pronounced upon a crown. I wish I had, to-night, the 
genius or the eloquence of Demosthenes ; for my theme, my 
crown, is as far beyond the glory of the crown of which he 
spoke, as my thoughts and my eloquence are inferior to his. 

Amongst the promises and prophetic words that we read in 
Scripture concerning our divine Lord and Redeemer, we read 
that it was prophesied of Him that He should be a king; that 
He should rule the nations ; that He should wear a crown ; and 
that His name was to be called "The Prince of Peace." He 
came ; He fulfilled all that was written concerning Him ; and 
He transmitted His headship and his office in the holy Church 
to be visibly exercised and to be embodied before the eyes of 
men in the Pope of Rome. And, therefore, amongst the other 
privileges which He conferred upon His vicar. He gave him 
that his brows should wear a crown. Therefore it is that, from 
the first day of the Church's history, her ruler, her pope, her 
head, rises before us, a sceptred man amongst men, and crowned 
with a glorious crown. Therefore it is that, encircling his hon- 
ored brows, for ages, the world has beheld the triple crown, or 
tiara, of which I am to speak to you this evening. Every other 




410 



TJie Popes Tiara. 



monarch amongst the nations wears for his crown a single cir- 
clet of gold. Ornament it as you will, there is but one circle ; 
that would represent the meeting and the centring in the per- 
son of the sovereign of all the temporal interests and authority 
of the State. Upon the pope's brows, however, rests a triple 
crown, called the tiara. It is made up of three distinct circles 
of gold. The first of these is symbolical of the universal epis- 
copate of the Pope of Rome — that is to say, of his headship of 
all the faithful in the Church ; for, " there shall be but one fold 
and one shepherd," was the word of Christ. The second of 
these circles that crowns the papal brows represents the su- 
premacy of jurisdiction, by which the pope governs not only all 
the faithful in the world at large, feeding them, as their supreme 
pastor, but by which, also, he holds the supremacy of jurisdiction 
and of power over the anointed ministers, and the episcopacy 
itself, in the Church of God. The third and last circle of this 
crown represents the temporal influence, the temporal dominion, 
which the pope has exercised and enjoyed for more than a thou- 
sand years in this world. 

Behold, then, what this tiara means. Upon those great fes- 
tival days, Avhen all the Catholic world was accustomed to be 
represented by its highest, by its best and noblest, by its most 
intellectual representatives in Rome, the Holy Father was seen 
enthroned, surrounded by cardinals, patriarchs, archbishops, 
bishops, the priesthood, and the faithful. There he sat upon his 
high, and ancient, and time-honored throne; and upon his head 
did he wear this triple crown, symbolizing his triple power. 

Now, my friends, in the Church of God everything is organ- 
ized ; ever}^thing arranged and disposed in a wonderful harmony, 
which expresses the mind and the wisdom of God Himself. 
And therefore it is, that in every detail of the Catholic liturg)^ 
and worship, we find the very highest, and the very holiest gifts 
symbolized and signified to the man of faith. What do those 
three circles of the pope's tiara symbolize? They signify, first 
of all, the unity that God has set upon His Church; secondly, 
they signify the power and jurisdiction that God has conferred 
upon His Church; and thirdly, they signify all these benefits of 
a humane kind, which the Church has conferred upon this world, 
and upon society. 

The first circlet of this tiara represents the unity of the 



The Popes Tiara. 



411 



Church. For it tells the faithful, that although they may be 
diffused all the world over, although they may be counted by 
hundreds of millions, although they may be found in every 
clime, and speaking every^ language, although they may be 
broken up into various forms of government, thinking in varied 
forms of thought, having varied and distinguished interests in 
the things that should never perish, but abide with them for 
eternity ; that moment, out of all these varied elements, out of 
these multiplied millions, out of these different nations, arises 
one thought, one act of obedience, one aspiration of prayer, one 
uplifting of the whole man, body and soul, in the unity of wor- 
ship, which distinguishes the Catholic Church," the spouse of 
Christ. This was the first mark that Christ, the Son of God, 
set upon the brows of His Church. He set upon her the glori- 
ous seal of unity in doctrine, that all men, throughout the world, 
who belonged to her, were to be as one individual man, in the 
one soul and the one belief of their divine faith. He set upon 
her brows the unity of charity — that all men were to be one, 
in one heart, and in one bond, which was to bind all Christian 
men to their fellow-men, through the one heart of Christ. And, 
in order to effect this unity, the Son of God put forth, the night 
before He suffered, the tender, but omnipotent prayer, in which 
He besought His Father that the unity of the Church should 
be visible to all men, and that it should be so perfect as to 
represent the ineffable unity by which He was one Avith His 
Father, in that singleness of nature which is the quintessence of 
the Almighty God. It was to be a visible unity. It was to be 
a unity that would force itself upon the notice of the world. It 
was to be a unity of thought and belief that would convince the 
world that the one mind, and the one word of the Lord of all 
truth, was in the heart, and in the intelligence, and upon the 
lips of His Church. It would be in vain that Christ, the Son 
of God, prayed for that unity, if it was to be a hidden thing, not 
seen and known by men ; if it was to be a contradictory thing, 
involving an outrage upon all logic and all reason ; as, for in- 
stance, the Protestant idea of unity, which is, " Let us 
agree to differ." " Let us agree to differ." Why, what 
does this mean ? It means something like what the Irish- 
man meant, when he met his friend, and said, " Oh, my dear 
fellow, I am so happy and glad to meet you ! And I want 



412 



The Pope s Tiara, 



to give you a proof of it." And he knocked him down. 
But you remember this was the sign of love. And so, the Prot- 
estant logic of this world says : Let us agree to differ." That 
is to say : Let us create unity by making disunion. Now, as 
the divine, eternal, incarnate wisdom determined that that crown 
and countersign of unity should be visible upon His Church, 
it was absolutely necessary for him to constitute one man — one 
individual man- — as the visible sign and guarantee of that unity 
in the Church for ever. It would not have answered to have 
left the twelve Apostles equal in power, equal in jurisdiction. 
For, all holy as they were, all inspired as they were, if equal 
power and jurisdiction had been left to all, if no one man 
amongst them had been brought forth and made the head of 
all, with all their perfection, with all their inspiration, with all 
their love for Christ, they would not, being twelve, have repre- 
sented the sacred principle of unity in the Church. Therefore 
did Christ, the Son of God, from amongst the twelve take one, 
called that man forth. He laid His hands upon him, and said, 
Hear him ! hear his words !" That He did not say of any of 
the others, but took care that all the others should be present 
to witness these words and to acknowledge their chief. He took 
that man in the presence of the twelve, and He said to him — 
to them : Hitherto you have been called Simon ; now I say 
your name is Cephas, which means a rock ; and upon this rock 
I will build My Church." Again, in the plainest of language he 
said to that man : " Thou — thou, O rock, confirm thy brethren !" 
In the presence of all. He demanded of that man the triple, 
thrice-repeated acknowledgment and confession of his love. 
"Peter," He said to him, "you know how dearly John, my vir- 
gin friend, loves Me. Do you love Me more? You know how 
well all these around Me love Me. Do you love Me more than 
all?" And until Peter three times asserted that he loved His 
Master with a love surpassing that of all others, Christ delayed 
His divine commission. But, when the triple acknowledgment 
was made. He said to Peter : " Feed thou My lambs ; feed thou 
My sheep." " There shall be one fold," said the Son of God, 
" and one shepherd." That was the visible unity of the Church ; 
that was to be the countersign of the divine origin of the Church 
of God, and that was to be represented unto all ages by the one 
head and supreme pastor of all — the Pope of Rome. 



The Popes Tiara. 



413 



Mark the splendid harmony that is here. The adorable Son 
of God is one with the Father, by the ineffable union of nature, 
from all eternity. The Son of God, made man, still is man, and 
only man, in the hypostatical union in which the two natures 
met in one divine person. The Church that sprung from 
Christ — the Lord God and man, united — is to be one until the 
end of time. And, therefore, the principle of unity passes, 
as it were, from Christ to Peter, and from Peter to each suc- 
ceeding pontiff ; so that the Church of God is recognized by its 
union with its head, and by that, the One Head, which governs 
all. Therefore did St. Ambrose say: "Show me Peter; for, 
where Peter is, there is the Church of God." 

Now, you see at once the significance of that first circle of 
gold that twines round the papal crown. It speaks of the pope 
as the supreme pastor of all the faithful. It speaks of him as 
the one voice, and the only one, able to fill the world, and 
before whose utterances the whole Christian and Catholic world 
bows down as one man. It speaks of the pope as the one 
shepherd of the one fold ; and it tells us that as we are bound to 
hear his voice, and as that voice can never resound through the 
whole Church, which cannot by possibility proclaim a lie — 
that when the Pope of Rome speaks to the faithful as supreme 
pastor, pronouncing upon and witnessing the faith of the 
Catholic Church — that the self-same spirit that preserves 
that Church from falling into error, preserves her pastor, 
so that he can never propound to her anything erroneous or 
unholy, or at variance with the sacred morality of the Christian 
law. 

The second circle of gold represents the second great attribute 
that Christ, our Lord, emphatically laid upon His Church. As 
clearly as He proved that that Church should be one, so clearly 
did He pray and prophesy that that Church was to have power 
and jurisdiction. All power," He said to His Apostles, " all 
power in Heaven and upon earth is given unto Me." Behold 
the Head of the Church speaking to His Church. " Given unto 
Me ! " ''I am the centre of that power." " As the Father sent 
Me, thus indued with power, so do I send you." And then He 
set upon the brows of His Apostles, and, through them, on the 
Church, the crown of spiritual power. But, as all power is 
derived from God, it follows that in the Church of God, whoever 



414 



TJie Popes Tiara. 



represents, as viceroy and vicar, supreme pastor and ruler of the 
Church — Avhoever represents Christ, who is the source of all 
power, that man has supreme jurisdiction in the Church of God, 
not only over the faithful, but over the pastors of the flock 
and the episcopacy. James, and John, and x\ndrew, and Philip, 
and the others, were all bishops. St. Ignatius of Antioch, and 
all the succeeding great names that adorn the episcopal roll 
in the Church— all had power ; all exercised power ; and all 
were recognized as the Church recognizes them and their suc- 
cessors still, as her archbishops and bishops ; and all had that 
power by divine institution, and that their episcopacy in the 
Church is of divine origin ; and yet that power is so subjugated 
and subordinated that the pope, is the supreme bishop of bishops, 
to whom Christ said, " feed not only the lambs," my faithful ; 
but " feed my sheep," the matured ones and holy ones in the 
sanctuary of the Church. 

Finally, the third circle of gold twining around that time-hon- 
ored crown of the tiara, represents the temporal power that the 
pope has wielded for so many centuries, and which has been the 
cause of so many blessings, and so much liberty and civilization 
to the world. 

It was not in the direct mission of the Church of God to 
civilize mankind, but only to sanctify them. But, inasmuch as 
no man can be sanctified without being instructed, without the 
elements of civilization being applied to him, therefore, indirect- 
ly, but most powerfully, did Christ, our Lord, confer upon His 
Church that she should be the great former and creator of so- 
ciety ; that she should be the mother of the highest civilization 
of this world ; that she should be the giver of the choicest and 
the highest of human gifts ; and, therefore, that she should have 
that power, that jurisdiction, that position, in her head, amongst 
the rulers of the nations, that would give her a strong voice and 
a powerful action in the guidance of human society. And as to 
the second circle of this golden crown — viz., the universal pas- 
torate of the Church — and the supremacy, even in the sanctu- 
ary — both of these did Peter receive from Christ ; and these 
two have been twined round the papal brow by the very hand 
of the Son of God, Himself! 

The third circle, of temporal power, the pope received at the 
hands of the world; at the hands of human society; at the 



The Popes Tiara. 



415 



hands of the people. x-\nd he received it out of the necessities 
of the people, that he might be their king, their ruler, and their 
father upon this earth. 

Now, such being the tiara, we come to consider it in the past, 
as history^ tells us of it ; in its present, as we behold it to-day ; 
and in its future. 

How old is this tiara ? I answer that although the mere ma- 
terial crown and its form dates only from about the year 1340, 
or '42, and the pontificate of Benedict the Twelfth, the tiara 
itself — the reality of it — the thing that it signifies — is as ancient 
as the Church of God, which was founded by Christ, our Lord. 
In the past, from the day that the Son of God ascended into 
heaven, all history attests to us that Peter, and Peter's succes- 
sors, were acknowledged to be the supreme pastors of the 
Church of God. Never, when Peter spoke, never did the 
Church refuse to accept his word, and to bow down before his 
final decision. In the very first Council of Jerusalem, grave 
questions that were brought before the assembly were argued 
upon by various of the Apostles, until Peter rose, and the mo- 
ment that Peter spoke and said, Let this be done so ; let such 
things be omitted ; such things be enforced " — that moment 
every man in the assembly held his peace, and took the 'decision 
of Peter as the very echo of the Invisible Head of the Church, 
who spoke in him, by, and through him. In all the succeeding 
ages, the nations bowed down as they received the words of the 
Gospel. The nations bowed down and accepted that message 
on the authority and on the testimony of the Pope of Rome ! 
Where, amongst the nations who have embraced the Cross — 
where, amongst the nations who have upheld the Cross — where 
is there one that did not receive its mission and its Gospel mes- 
sage, on the message and on the testimony of the Pope of 
Rome? From the very first ages, whilst they yet lay hid in the 
catacombs, we read of saintly missionaries going forth from 
under the pope's hands to spread the message of Divine Truth 
throughout the lands. Scarcely had the Church emerged from 
the catacombs, and burst into the glory and splendor of her re- 
newed existence, than we find one of the early Popes of Rome 
laying his hand upon the head of a holy youth that knelt before 
him, consecrating that youth into the priesthood, into the epis- 
copacy, and sending him straight from Rome to a mission, the 



4i6 



The Pope s Tiara. 



grandest and the most fruitful — the most glorious of any in the 
Church. That pope was Celestine, of Rome, and the man 
whom he sent was Patrick, who, by the Pope's order, 
wended his w^ay to Ireland. From the Pope of Rome did 
he (Patrick) receive his mission and his message. From 
the Pope of Rome did he receive his authority and his juris- 
diction. The diploma that he brought to Ireland was attached 
to the Gospel itself. It was the testimony of the Church of 
Christ, countersigned by Celestine, who derived his authority 
from Peter, who derived his from Christ. And when, in his old 
age, he had evangelized the whole island ; when he had brought 
Ireland into the full light of the Christian faith, and into the 
full blaze of her Christian sanctity, the aged apostle, now droop- 
ing into years, called the bishops and the priests of Ireland 
around him ; and, amongst his last words to them were these : 

If ever a difficulty arises amongst you ; — if ever a doubt of 
any passage of the Scripture — or of any doctrine of the Church's 
law — or of anything touching the Church of God or the salva- 
tion of the souls of your people — if ever any doubt arises 
amongst you, go to Rome — to the mother of the nations — and 
Peter will instruct you thereon !" Well and faithfully did the 
mind and the heart of Ireland take in the words of its saintly 
Apostle. Never — through good report or evil report — never has 
Ireland swerved for one instant — never has she turned to look 
with a favoring or a reverential eye upon this authority or upon 
that ; but straight to Peter. Never has she, for an instant, lost 
her instinct, so as to mistake for Peter any pretender, or any 
other pope ! Never, for an instant, has she allowed her heart 
or her hand to be snared from Peter ! It is a long story. It is 
a story of fourteen hundred years. But Ireland has preserved 
her faith through her devotion to Peter, and to the Pope of 
Rome, Peter's successor ; and she has seen every nation during 
these fourteen hundred years — every nation that ever separated 
from Peter — she has seen them, one and all, languish and die, 
until the sap of divine knowledge, until the sap of divine grace, 
was dried up in them ; and they utterly perished, because 
they were separated from the Rock of Ages, the Pope of Rome. 

Just as the people, in all ages, and in all times, bowed down 
before their supreme pastor, so, also, has the episcopate in the 
Church of God, at all times, recognized the supremacy of the 



The Pope s Tiara. 



417 



Pope of Rome, and, at all times, bowed before the second crown 
that encircles his glorious tiara. Never did the episcopacy of 
the Catholic Church meet in council except upon the invocation 
of the Pope .of Rome. Never did they promulgate a decree 
until they first sent it to the Pope of Rome to ask him if it was 
according to the truth, and to get the seal and the countersign 
of his name upon it, that it might have the authority of the 
Church of God before their people. From time to time, in the 
history of the episcopate, there have been rebellious men that 
rose up against the authority, and disputed the power of the 
Church of Rome. But, just as the nations that separated from 
Peter, separated themselves thereby from the unity of the truth, 
and of sanctity, and of Christian doctrine, and of Christian 
morality, so, in like manner, the bishop who, at any time, in any 
place, or in any age, disputed Peter's power, Peter's authority, 
and separated from him, was cut off from Peter and from the 
Church ; the mitre fell, dishonored, from his head ; and he 
became a useless member, lopped off from the Church of God, 
without power, without jurisdiction, without the veneration, or 
the respect, or the love of his people. Thus has it ever been in 
times gone by. The Pope of Rome commands the Church 
through the episcopate. The Pope of Rome speaks and testi- 
fies to the Church's doctrine through the episcopate. When- 
ever any grave, important question, touching doctrine, has to 
be decided, the Pope of Rome has always called the episcopate 
about him — not that he could not decide, but that he might sur- 
round his decision with all that careful and prudent examination, 
with all that weight of universal authority over the world, which 
would bring that decision, when he pronounced it, more clearly 
and more directly home to every Catholic mind. And faithful 
has that episcopate been, since the day that eleven bishops 
met Peter, the pope, in Jerusalem, in the first Council, down 
to the day when, three years ago, eight hundred Catholic 
archbishops and bishops met Peter's successor in the halls of 
the Vatican, and bowed down before the word of truth upon his 
lips. 

Such, in the past, as history attests — such were the two circles 
of the supreme pastorate and supreme jurisdiction in the Church. 

The Roman empire, as you all know, was utterly destroyed 
by the incursions of the barbarians, in the fifth century. A king, 

27 



4i8 



The Popes Tiara, 



at the head of his ferocious army, marched on Rome. The pope 
was applied to by the terrified citizens ; and Leo the Great went 
forth to meet Attila, ''the Scourge of God." He found him in 
the midst of his rude barbarian warriors, on the banks of the 
Mincio. He found him exulting in the strength and power of 
his irresistible army. He found him surging and sweeping on 
toward Rome, with the apparent force of inevitable destiny, and 
with his outspread wings of destruction. He found him in the 
pride and in the supreme passion of his lustful and barbaric 
heart, sworn to destroy the city that was the " Mother of Na- 
tions." And, as he was in the very sweep of his conquest and 
pride — unfriended and almost alone, having nothing but the 
majesty of his position and of his glorious virtue around him, 
the pope said : '' Hold ! Rome is sacred, and your feet shall 
never tread upon its ancient pavement ! Hold ! Let Rome be 
spared!" And, whilst he was speaking, Attila' looked upon 
the face of the man, and presently he saw over the head of St. 
Leo, the pope, two angry figures, the Apostles St. Peter and 
St. Paul, with fire and the anger of God beaming from their eyes, 
and with drawn swords menacing him. And even as the angel 
stood in the prophet's path of old, and barred his progress, so 
did Peter and Paul appear in mid-air and bar the barbarian. 
'' Let us return," said he, '' and let us not approach this terrible 
and God-defended city of Rome ! " Attila fled to his northern 
forests, and Leo returned, having saved the existence and the 
blood of ancient and imperial Rome ! But army followed army; 
until, at length, Alaric conquered and sacked the city, burned 
and destroyed it, broke up all its splendor and all its glory, 
overran and destroyed all the surrounding provinces ; and so 
the destruction that he began was completed a few years later 
by the king Odoacer, who wiped away the last vestige of the 
ancient Roman empire ! Then, my friends, all Italy was a prey 
to and was torn with factions ; covered with the blood of the 
people. There was no one to save them. In vain did they 
appeal to the distant eastern emperor at Constantinople. He 
laughed at their misery, and abandoned them in the hour of 
their deepest afifliction and sorrow; whilst wave after wave of 
barbaric invasion swept over the fair land, until life became a 
burden too intolerable to bear, and the people cried out, from 
their breaking hearts, for the Pope of Rome to take them under 



The Pope s Tiara. 



419 



his protection, to let them declare him king, and so obtain his 
safeguard and his protection for their lives and their property. 
For many long years the Pope resisted the proffered crown. It 
grew upon his brows insensibly. It came to him in spite of him- 
self. We know that, year after year, each successive pope was 
employed sending letters, sending messengers, to supplicate, to 
implore the Christian emperor to send an army for the protec- 
tion of Italy ; and when he did send his army, they were worse, 
in their heretical lawlessness, more tyrannical, more blood-thirsty 
over the unfortunate people of Italy, than even the savage 
hordes that came down from the north of Europe. And so it 
came to pass that, in the dire distress of the people, the pope 
was obliged to accept the temporal power of Rome, and of some 
of the adjoining provinces. History tells us that he might, in 
that day, have obtained, if he wished it, the sovereignty over 
all Italy. They would have been only too happy to accept him 
as their king ; but no lust of power, no ambition of empire 
guided him ; and the great St. Gregory tells us that he was 
oppressed with the cares of 'the temporal dominion, and that it 
was forced upon him against his will. 

However, now the crown is upon his head. Now he is ac- 
knowledged a monarch — a reigning king amongst monarchs. 
And now let us see what was the purpose of God in thus estab- 
lishing that temporal power in so early a portion of the history 
of the world's civilization. At that time, there was no law in 
Europe. The nations had not yet settled down or formed. 
Every man did as he would. The kings were only half-civilized, 
barbarous men recently converted to Christianity, wielding enor- 
mous power, and only too anxious to make that power the 
instrument for gratifying every most terrible passion of lust, of 
pride, of ambition, and of revenge. Chieftains, taking to them- 
selves the titles of baron, duke, margrave, and so on, gathered 
around them troops, bands of mercenaries, and preyed on the 
poor people, until they covered the whole continent with con- 
fusion and with blood. There was no power to restrain them. 
There was no power to make them spare their people. There 
was no voice to assert the cause of the poor and the oppressed, 
save one ; and that was the voice of the monarch who was 
crowned in Rome, the ancient and powerful head of the Catholic 
Church. Whence came his influence or his power over them ? 



420 



The Pope s Tiara. 



Ah, it came from this ; that, with all their crimes, they still had 
received from God the gift of faith, and they knew — the very 
worst amongst them knew — as history tells us, that when the 
pope spoke it was the echo of the voice of God. They ac- 
knowledged it as a supreme power over their consciences, over 
their actions — as a power that could be wielded not only for 
their salvation, but even for their destruction, by the terrible 
sentence of excommunication, by which the pope could cut them 
off from the Church. The faith that was in the hearts of these 
rude kings was also disseminated amongst their people ; and 
so strong was it, that the moment the pope denounced or ex- 
communicated any monarch, that moment, no matter how great 
he was as a warrior, as a statesman, as a writer — that moment 
the people shrank from him, as they would from the pest-stricken 
leper, and his voice was no longer heard as an authority either 
on the battle-field or in the council-chamber. Knowing this, 
the kings were afraid of the pope. Knowing this, the people 
looked up to the pope ; and if any king overtaxed his people, 
and ground them to the earth, or if any king violated the law 
of eternal justice by shedding the blood of any man without 
just cause, or if any king declared an unjust and unnecessary 
war, or if any king repudiated his lawful wife, and, in the strength 
and power of his passion, sought to scandalize his subjects, and 
to openly insult and outrage the law of God — the people, the 
soldiery, society, the abandoned and injured woman, all alike 
looked up to and appealed to the Pope of Rome, as the only 
power that could sway the world, and strike terror into the 
heart of the greatest, the most powerful, and the most lawless 
king upon the earth. 

History — from every source from which we can draw it — tells 
us what manner of men were the kings and dukes and rulers 
the pope had to deal with. What manner of mxcn were they ? 
In the eleventh century, the Emperor Otho invited all his 
nobility to a grand banquet ; and whilst they were in the midst 
of their festivity, in came one of the king's officers with a long 
list of the names of men who were there present ; and every 
man whose name was called out, had to rise from the banquet 
and walk into a room adjoining, and there. submit to an unjust, 
a cruel, and an instantaneous death. These were the kind of 
men that the pope had to deal with. Another man that we 



The Pope s Tiara. 



421 



read of was Lothair. His lustful eye fell upon a beautiful 
woman ; and he instantly puts away and repudiates his virtuous 
and honored wife, and he takes to him this concubine, in the 
face of the world, proclaiming, or suggesting that he could pro- 
claim, that, because he was an emperor, or a king, he was at 
liberty to violate the law of God, outrage the proprieties of 
society, scandalize his subjects, and take liberties with their 
honor and with their integrity, which would not be permitted to 
any other man. How did the pope, in these instances, deal 
with such men ? How did he use the temporal power, so great 
and so tremendous, with which God and society had invested 
him ? He made the murderers do public penance, and make 
restitution to the families of those whose blood they had shed. 
He called to him that emperor, Lothair ; he brought him before 
him ; he made him, in a public church, and before all the peo- 
ple, repudiate that woman whom he had taken to his adulterous 
embrace ; take back his lawful empress and queen, pledge to her 
again, bysolemn oath, before all the people, that he never would 
love another, and that he would be faithful to her as a husband 
and a man, until the hour of his death. Lothair broke his oath 
— his oath taken at that solemn moment, when the pope, with 
the ciborium in his hand, held up the body of the Lord, and 
said, Until you swear fidelity to your lawful wife, I will not 
place the Holy Communion upon your lips." He took that oath ; 
he broke it ; and that day month — one month after he had re- 
ceived that communion — he was a dead man ; and the whole 
world — the whole Christian world — recognized in that death the 
vengeance of God falling upon a perjured and an excommuni- 
cated sinner. How did the pope vindicate, by his temporal 
power and authority, the influence that it gave him amongst the 
kings and the nations? How did he operate upon society? 
When King Philip, of France, wished to repudiate his lawful 
wife, and take another in her stead, the pope excommunicated 
him, and obliged him, in the face of the world, to take back, 
and to honor with his love and with his fidelity the woman whom 
he had sworn before the altar to worship and to protect as long 
as she lived. How did the pope exercise his temporal power, 
when Spain and Portugal, both in the zenith of their power, 
were about to draw the sword, and to deluge those fair lands 
with the blood of the people ? The pope stepped in and said. 



422 



The Pope s Tiara. 



" No war ; there is no necessity for war ; there is no justification 
for war; and if you shed the blood of your people," he said to 
both kings, " I will cut you both off, and fling you, excommuni- 
cated, out of the Church." Thus did he preserve the rights — 
the sacred rights of marriage ; thus did he preserve the honor, 
the integrity, the position of the Christian woman — the Christian 
mother, who is the source, the fountain-head of all this world's 
society, and the one centre of all our hopes. Thus did he save 
the people, curb the angry passions of their sovereigns ; thus 
did he tell the king, " So long as you rule justly, so long as you 
respect the rights of the humblest of your subjects, I will uphold 
you ; I will set a crown upon your head, and I will fling around 
you all the authority, and all the jurisdiction, and sacredness of 
your monarchy. I will preach to your people obedience, loyalty, 
bravery, and love : but if you trample upon that people's rights, 
if you abuse your power to scandalize them, to injure them in 
their integrity, in their conscience, I will be the first to take the 
crown from your head, and to declare to the world that you are 
unworthy to wear it." Modern historians say, ''Oh, we admit 
all this ; but what right had the pope to do it ?" What right 
had he to do it ? What right ? The best of right. Who on 
this earth had a right to do it, if not the man who represented 
Christ, the Originator and the Saviour of the world ? What 
right had he to do it ? He had the right that even society itself, 
and the people gave him ; for they cried out to him, " Save us 
from our kings ; save us from injustice ; save us from dishonor ; 
and we will be loyal and true as long as our leaders and our 
monarchs are worthy of our loyalty and our truth." 

Such, in the past history of the world, was the third circle 
that twines round the papal crown. 

Now, passing from the past to the tiara of to-day, what do 
we find ? We find a man in Rome, the most extraordinary, in 
some things, of all those that ever succeeded to the supremacy 
of the Church, and in the office of St. Peter — most extraordi- 
nary, particularly in his misfortunes — most extraordinary in the 
length of his reign, for he is the only Pope that has outlived 

the years of Peter " — most extraordinary in the ingratitude 
of the world towards him, and the patience with which he has 
borne it — most extraordinary in the heroic firmness of his char- 
acter, and in the singleness of his devotion to his God and to 



The Pope s Tiara. 



423 



the spouse of God, the Church — Pius IX., the glorious pontiff, 
the man whom the bitterest enemies of the Church, whom the 
most foul-mouthed infidels of the day are obliged to acknowl- 
edge as a faithful and true servant of the Lord his God, a faith- 
ful ruler of the Church, and a man from whose aged countenance 
there beams forth upon all who see him, the sweetness and the 
purity of Christ. I have seen him in the halls of the Vatican ; 
I have seen the most prejudiced Protestant ladies and gentle- 
men w^alk into that audience-chamber ; I have seen them come 
forth, their eyes streaming with tears ; I have seen them come 
forth, entranced with admiration, at the vision of sanctity and 
venerableness that they have beheld in the head of the Cath- 
olic Church. He is extraordinary in that he has outlived the 
years of Peter. Well do I remember him, as he stood upon the 
altar five-and-twenty years ago, fair and beautiful in his youth- 
ful manhood. Well do I remember the heroic voice that pealed 
like a clarion over the mighty square of St. Peter's, and seemed 
as if it was an angel of God that was come down from heaven, 
and, in a voice of melodious thunder, was flinging a Pentecost 
of grace and blessing over the people. Five-and-twenty years 
have passed away, and more. Never during the long roll of pon- 
tiffs — never did man sit upon St. Peter's chair so long ; so 
that it even passed into a proverb, that no pope was ever to see 
the years of Peter. That proverb is falsified in Pius. He has 
passed the mystic Rubicon of the papal age. He has passed 
the bounds which closed around all his predecessors. He has 
passed the years of Peter upon the papal throne. Oh ! may he 
live, if it be God's will, to guide the Church, until he has doubled 
the years of Peter. He is singular in what the world calls his 
misfortunes ; but what, to me, or any man of faith, must ab- 
solutely appear as a startling resemblance to the last week 
that the Lord, our Saviour, spent before His passion, in Je- 
rusalem. I remember Pius IX. surrounded by the acclama- 
tions and the admiration of the whole world. No word of 
praise was too great to be bestowed upon him. He was the 
theme of every popular writer. He was the idol of the people. 
The moment they beheld him the cry came forth : " Viva, 
viva, il salvatore de la patria ! " Long live the savior of his peo- 
ple and of his country ! To-day he must not show his face 
in the very streets of Rome ; and in the very halls of the de- 



424 



The Pope s Tiara. 



serted Vatican he hears the echoes of the shouts of those that 
cry, Blessed be the hand that shall be embrued in thy blood, 
O Pius ! " Now, I ask any man on the face of the earth, what 
has this man done? What can the greatest enemy of the pope 
lay his hand upon, and say, he has done so and so, and he has 
deserved this change of popular friendship, and of popular 
opinion ? The greatest enemy that the pope has on this earth is 
not able to bring a single charge against him, during these 
twenty-five years, to account for that change of opinion. What 
has changed blessings into curses ? What has changed homage 
and veneration into contempt and obloquy? There is no ac- 
counting for it. It is like the change that came over the people 
of Jerusalem, who, on Palm Sunday, cried, Hosanna to the 
Son of David," and on Good Friday morning cried, ''Give Him 
to us ! We will tear Him to pieces and crucify Him ! " There 
is no accounting for it. Has he oppressed the Roman people ? 
No. I lived many years in Rome under his pontificate. There 
was no taxation worth speaking of; there was no want, no 
misery. There was plenty of education for the children, plenty 
of employment, plenty of diversion. There was no forcible 
conscription of the youth, to send them into some vile cess- 
pool of corruption, in the shape of a barrack, or to hunt them 
out to the battle-field, to be mown down and flung into blood- 
stained graves. No ; every man possessed his house and his 
soul in peace. There was prosperity in the land. And over all 
this there was the hand ever waving a blessing, and a voice 
invoking benediction and grace for his people. Whence came 
the change ? No man can tell. Therefore, I say, this man 
is extraordinary in his misfortunes, inasmuch as they bring 
out, in the most striking and terrible manner, his resem- 
blance to his crucified Lord and Saviour, the Head of the 
Church. He is singular in the magnificence of his charac- 
ter. The student cf history may read the lives of all the popes 
that have come down from Peter to Pius, and I make this asser- 
tion, that there is not a single feature of grandeur or mag- 
nificence in the character of any one of these popes, that does 
not shine out, concentrated, in the character of Pius IX. We 
admire the mis^sionary zeal of St. Gregory the Great, of St. 
Celestine. Pius the Ninth has sent from under his own hand, 
and from under his own blessing, men who have honored his 



The Popes Tiara. 



425 



pontificate, as well as the Church, their mother, by shedding 
their blood in martyrdom, for the faith. From under his hand 
have gone forth those holy ones who have languished in the 
dungeons of China and of Japan. From under his hand have 
gone forth those heroic Jesuit sons of St. Ignatius, that have 
lifted the standard of the Cross, and uplifted the name — the 
name which forms their crown and their glory, even in the eyes 
of men, unto the farthest nations of the earth. If we admire 
the love of Rome that shines forth in the character of St. Leo 
the Great, who was the pope amongst them all that ever loved 
Rome and the Romans so tenderly as the heart of Pius IX. loved 
them ? When he came to the throne there were Romans in 
exile, and there were Romans in prison. The very first act of 
the pontiff was to fling open the prison-doors, and to say to 
these children of misfortune, Come forth, Italians ; breathe the 
pure air and feast your eyes upon the loveliness of your native 
land." There were Romans who were in exile : he sent them 
the message of manumission, and of pardon, and of love, in 
whatever land they wxre, and said, " Come back to me ; — come 
back and sit down in peace and in contentment under my em- 
pire ; for, O Rome, and children of Rome, I love you." This 
was the language and these were the emphatic accents of the 
glorious Pius IX. Where was the pope who ever embellished 
Rome as he did ? I lived in Rome during the first year of his 
pontificate : I lived there in the last. I might almost say that 
he found it a city of brick, and that he handed it over to 
Victor Emmanuel, the robber, a city of polished and shining 
marble. Orphanages, hospitals, public schools, model lodging- 
houses, public baths and lavatories, splendid fountains ; every- 
thing that the Roman citizen could require, either for his wants 
or for his luxury, or, if you will, his pleasure, the magnificent 
hand of Pius IX. provided ; for, for the last five-and-twenty 
years, that hand has never ceased in beautifying and embellish- 
ing his loved and imperial Rome. We admire the glorious 
firmness, the magnificent, rock-like endurance of St. Gregory 
VII., whom history knows by the name of Hildebrand ; how he 
stood in the path of the impious German emperors. Like a 
rock against which the tide dashes, but dashes in vain — so did 
he stand to stem the torrent of their tyranny and of their cor- 
ruption. We admire Gregory VII., when, saying Mass before 



426 



The Pope s Tiara. 



the emperor, he took the Blessed Eucharist into his hands and 
turned round, with the Holy Communion, and said, O majes- 
ty, I am about to give you the Holy Body of Jesus Christ. 
I swear before my God," said the pope, in whose presence I 
now stand, that I have never acted save for the Church which 
He loves, and for the happiness of His people. Now O 
King ! swear thou the same ; and I will put God upon thy lips I" 
The emperor hung his head and said, " I cannot swear it, for 
it would not be true ;" and the Holy Communion was denied 
him. We admire that magnificent memory in the Church of 
God, which upheld the rights of Peter and of the Church 
against king and kaiser; but, I ask you, does not the image of the 
sainted Gregory VH. rise before our eyes from out the recesses 
of history, and come forth into the full blaze of the present 
generation in the magnificent constancy and firmness of Pius 
IX., the Pope of Rome ? It was a question of only giving up 
a little child that was baptized into the Christian Church, and 
engrafted by baptism upon Christ, our Lord, — a little child 
that was engrafted unto the Son of God and His Church, had 
received the rites, and claimed, in justice, to come to know and 
love that God on whom he had been engrafted by baptism. All 
the powers of the world — all the dukes and kings and govern- 
ments in Europe — came around the pope, and said, " You 
must give up that child ; he must be taught to blaspheme and 
to hate that Lord upon whom he has been engrafted by baptism. 
He must not belong to Christ, or the Church, even though he is 
baptized into it." And they asked the pope, by the surrender 
of that child, to proclaim the surrender of that portion of the 
Church's faith that tells us, on the authority of the inspired 
Apostle, that, by baptism, like a wild olive branch let into a 
good tree, we are let into Jesus Christ. They sent their fleets 
to Civita Vecchia ; they pointed their cannon against the Vati- 
can, and told the pope that his existence and his life depended 
upon his giving up that child. And he declared, in the face of 
the world, and pronounced that word which will shine in charac- 
ters of glory on his brow in heaven — he pronounced the im- 
mortal non possiiinus — " I will not do it, because I cannot do 
it !" If he wants an epitaph, the most glorious language that 
need be written on his tomb would be " Here lies the man 
whom the whole world tried to coerce to commit a sin ; and 



TJic Pope s Tiara. 



427 



who answered the whole world ' non possiimiis ' — I cannot do 
it." This is the man that to-day wears, and so gloriously wears, 
the time-honored tiara that has come down to him through 
eighteen hundred years of suffering and of glory, of joy and of 
sorrow. 

The third circlet — that of the temporal power — for a time is 
gone. There is a robber, who calls himself a king, seated now 
in the Quirinal, in Rome. He had not the decency to tell the pope 
that he was coming to plunder him. He had not the decency, 
when he did come to Rome, to build a house for himself ; but he 
must take one of the old man's houses. It was a question of bring- 
ing his women into these, the pope's own chambers, which were 
always like sanctuaries, where ladies generally are not permitted 
to come in. There was a kind of tradition of holiness about them, 
and exclusiveness in this way ; and he brings his queen and his 

ladies all " to these chambers, where, if they had a particle of 
womanly decency, and delicacy, and propriety, they would not 
enter. I do not believe there is a lady here listening to me, 
who would walk into the Quirinal to-morrow, even if she was in 
Rome. The third circlet, for a time, is plucked from the pope's 
brow ; and, instead of a crown of gold, the aged man has bent 
down and has received, from the hands of ungrateful Italy, the 
present of a crown of thorns. But, as if to compensate him for 
the temporary absence of the crown of temporal rule ; as if to 
make up to him for that which has been plucked, for a time 
only, from the tiara ; the Almighty God has brought out, in our 
age, upon the pontificate of Pius IX., the other two circlets, 
that of supreme Pastorate and supreme Bishop of the Church, 
with an additional lustre and glory that they never had before. 
Never, in the history of the Catholic Church, have the faithful, 
all the world over, listened with so much reverence, with so 
much love, with so much faith and joy, as the Catholics of the 
world, to-day, listen to the voice of Pius IX., in Rome. Never 
have the bishops of the Catholic Church shown such unanimity, 
such unity of thought, such profound and magnificent obedience. 
Never has the episcopate of the Catholic Church so loudly, 
emphatically, and unitedly upheld the privileges and the glories 
of its head, as the episcopacy of this day has upheld the glory 
of the papacy of Pius IX. And it is no small subject of praise 
and of thankfulness to us, that when eight hundred men amongst 



428 



The Pope s Tiara. 



them, loaded with the responsibihty of the Church — eight hun- 
dred men, representing all that the Church had of perfection, 
of the priesthood, and of jurisdiction and power — when these 
eight hundred men were gathered round the throne of the 
august pontiff, they presented to the world, in its hostility, in 
its infidelity, in its hatred, so firm a front, that they were all of 
one mind, of one soul ; one voice only was heard from the lips 
of these eight hundred; and that voice said, Tu es Petrus ! " 
O Pius ! Peter speaks in thee, and Christ, the Lord, speaks in 
Peter. One of the most honored of these eight hundred — one 
of the foremost in dignity and in worth — now sits here in the 
midst of you, the bishop and pastor of your souls. He can bear 
living witness to the fact which I have stated. Out of the 
resources of his learned mind — out of his Roman experience as 
an archbishop — will he tell you — out of his historic lore will he 
tell you — that never was the Church of God more united, both 
in the priesthood and episcopacy, and in the people ; more 
united in ranks cemented by faith, and strengthened by love, 
than the Christian and Catholic world to-day is, around the 
glorious throne of the uncrowned pontiff, Pius IX. 

And what shall be the future of this tiara ? We know that 
the crown of universal pastorship and the crown of supremacy 
are his ; that no man can take from him that which has grown 
unto him under the hand of Jesus Christ. We know that he 
may be in exile to-morrow — that he may be without a home, 
persecuted and hunted from one city to another. But, we 
know that God and the Church of God have set their seal upon 
him, and their sign that no other man upon this earth can wear, 
namely, that he is the head of the Church, and the infallible 
guide of the infallible flock of Christ. Will his temporal 
power be restored ? Will the third circle ever again shine upon 
that tiara ? It is a singular fact that the only man who can 
speak of the future with certainty is the Catholic. Every other 
man, when he comes to discuss any subject of the future, must 
say, "Well, in all probability, perhaps, it may come to pass; it 
may be so and so ; " but the Catholic man, when he comes to 
speak of the future, says : " Such and such things are to come ;" 
he knows it as sure as fate. There is not a man amongst us 
that does not know that this usurpation of Rome is only a ques- 
tion of a few days — only a question of a few days — that the 



The Pope s Tiara. 



knavish king may remain this year, next year ; perhaps a few 
years more ; but as sure as Rome is seated upon her seven hills, 
so surely will the third circle of the tiara be there ; so surely 
must there be a Pope-king there. And why? For the simplest 
of all reasons : that her empire, or her temporal power, is very 
convenient, and very useful, and very necessary for the Church 
of God ; and that whatever is convenient, or useful, or neces- 
sary for her, God in Heaven will provide for her. That tem- 
poral power will return as it returned in the times of old, be- 
cause it is good for the Church, and because the world cannot 
get on without it. The hand that has held the reins of society 
for a thousand years and more — the hand that has held the curb 
tight upon the passions, and the ambition, and the injustice of 
kings — the hand that has held, with a firm grasp, the reins that 
govern the people, is as necessary in the time to come, as it 
was in the times past ; and, therefore, God will keep that hand 
that holds the reins of the world, a royal hand. Hence it is 
that we Catholics have not the slightest apprehension, the 
slightest fear, about this. We know that, even as our Divine 
Lord and Master suffered in Jerusalem, and was buried and re- 
mained for three days in the grave, and undeniably rose again, 
all the more glorious because of His previous suffering — so, in 
like manner, do we know that out of the grave of his present 
tribulation — out of the trials of to-day, Pius IX., or Pius the 
Ninth's successor — for the pope lives forever — will rise more 
glorious in his empire over the world, and in his influence 
and power, all the more glorious for having passed through 
the tribulations of the present time. But, my friends, just as 
the most precious hours in the life of our Lord were 
the hours of His suffering — ^just as that was the particular 
time when every loving heart came to Him — the time 
when the highest privileges were conferred upon mankind, 
namely to wipe the sweat and blood off His brow ; to take 
the cross off His shoulders ; to lift Him from His falling, and 
His faintness upon the earth ; so, also, the present is the hour 
of our highest privilege as Catholics, when we can put out our 
hand to cheer, to console, to help our Holy Father the Pope. 
This hall is crowded ; and, from my priestly, Catholic, and 
Irish heart, I am proud of it. It is easy to acclaim a man when 
he is on the top of the wheel," as they say, and everything is 



The Popes Tiara. 



going well with him. It is easy to feel proud of the pope when 
the pope shines out, acknowledged by all the kings of the earth. 
Ah, but it is the triumph of Catholic and of Irish faith, to 
stand up for him, to uphold him before the world, and, if neces- 
sary, to fight for him, when the whole world is against him. 
Therefore, I hope, that when the proceeds of this lecture are sent 
to the man, who, although poor and in prison to-day, has kept his 
honor, has kept his nobility of character ; and, when millions 
were put before him by the robber-king, said he would not 
dirty his hands by touching them ; but when the honest and the 
clean money of to-night shall be sent to him, I hope that some 
one of those officials here will also inform him that that money was 
sent to him with cheers and with applause, and from loving 
and generous Irish Catholic hearts ; that it was given as Ireland 
always has given when she gave — given with a free hand and a 
loving and generous heart. As a great author and writer of 
our day said, I would rather get a cold potato from an Irish- 
man, than a guinea in gold and a dinner of beef from an Eng- 
lishman." 

And now, my friends, I have only to state to you that, from 
my heart, I thank you for your presence here this evening. I 
know that the sacredness of the cause brought you here as 
Catholics. I flatter myself, a little, that, perhaps, some of you 
came, because when I was last here before you, I told you, in 
all sincerity, that my heart and soul were in this lecture, and 
that I would take it as a personal favor if the hall were crowded 
this evening. The hall is crowded : and I am grateful to you 
for your attendance, and your patience in listening to me, and 
for the encouragement that you gave me by your applause. 



GOOD WORKS WITH FAITH NECES- 
SARY TO SALVATION. 



[Delivered at the Church of St. Vincent Ferrer, May 2d, 1872.] 
" And to the disciple Jesus said : Son, behold thy mother." 

EARLY beloved : On last evening I endeavored to 
describe to you the beautiful harmony and analogy 
between the things of nature and the spiritual things 
of grace, so admirably developed and illustrated in the 
dedication of this month of May to the Blessed Virgin Mary ; 
and I told you then that on this evening I would endeavor to 
unfold to you the place and the position which the mother of 
our Divine Lord holds in the plan of man's redemption. Now, 
there are two great classes that occupy the world to-day, of men 
who differ in their apprehension of the design of God as revealed 
in the redemption of man. The first are those who say, or 
who seem to say, that we did not stand in need of redemption 
at all. They deny the fall of man — they deny the inherent sin- 
fulness of man. Consequently, they deny the necessity of the 
incarnation of the Almighty God. They deny the necessity of 
sacraments or their efficacy, and they say that man has, within 
himself, in the very elements of his nature — that by the mere 
development of his natural powers he may attain to all the pur- 
poses of God, and to the full perfection of His being. Such, for 
instance, is the doctrine of the wide-spread sect of Socinius. 
Such, in a great measure, are the ideas of a number of wide- 
spread sects — the Unitarians, Humanitarians, believers in 
human nature alone — Progressists, men who look to this world, 
and to its scientific attainments, and to its great developments, 
as effected by man and reflected in the spirit and in the intelli- 




432 



Good Works zuith Faith 



gence of man, for all the perfection of humanity and of society. 
This class takes in all those who refuse any definite form of re- 
ligion at all — who put away from them all idea of the necessity 
of any fixed faith. This idea represents the vast multitude of 
mankind, found everywhere, and nowhere more numerous than 
here, in this very land; the men who, with the most accurate 
ideas on business, on commercial transactions, on law, on 
politics, etc., are only found to be following, in an inaccurate 
comprehension, careless, indefinite and not only ignorant 'of, but 
willing to be ignorant of every specific form of defined faith, or 
belief in revelation at all. They do not give enough to God in 
their thoughts, in their minds, in the acknowledgments of their 
souls, in this question of man's redemption. There are, on the 
other hand, a vast number who profess Christianity, and who, if 
you will, give too much to God in this matter of redemption ; 
who say that when the Son of God became man, he effected the 
redemption of mankind so completely, that he wiped away the 
world's sin so utterly, that all that we have to do is to lean upon 
Him — to govern ourselves by faith, with . His justification, His 
merits, and that without any concurrent labor of our own, without 
any work on our part, but only the easy operation of believing 
on Christ," as they put it, that we can be saved. And hence 
we hear so much about justification by faith ; and hence we 
hear so much ribald abuse of the Catholic sacraments — of fast- 
ing, of the Holy Mass, of all the exterior usages and sacramental 
appliances of the Holy Catholic Church;, all mocked at,- all 
derided as contrary to the spirit of all true religion ; which simply 
is, according to them, to believe with all your soul in Jesus 
Christ, in His redemption, in His atonement, and all sins are 
cleansed. A man may have a thousand deeds of murder upon 
his soul ; a man may have loaded himself with every most hide- 
ous form of impurity ; a man may have injured his neighbor on 
the right hand and on the left, and may have enriched himself 
upon the spoils of his dishonesty — there is no law either of the 
relations of God to man, or man to his fellow-man — but only 
"believe on God and you are saved." Hence we hear of so 
many who go out to these camp-meetings and these prayer- 
meetings, and there work themselves into a state of excitement, 
and say, " Oh, I have found the Lord Jesus, I have found him ! " 
There is no more question about that — they are confirmed ; they 



Necessary to Salvation. 



433 



are the elect ; they are the perfect ; they are the regenerated, 
and there is an end to all their previous sins. They need not 
shed a tear of sorrow, but only believe on the Lord. They need 
not make an act of contrition, they need not mortify their 
bodies, but only believe on the Lord. It is a smooth and a very 
easy, a remarkably easy doctrine, and, if it only led to heaven, 
it would be indeed a sweet and an easy way, by which we could 
enjoy ourselves here as long as we like in the indulgence of every 
vile passion, and afterwards turn and lean upon the Lord, and 
thus get into heaven. Between these two extremes, the extreme 
of unbelief and the mistaken view and zeal of what appears to 
be an over-fervent faith, but which in reality is not faith at all — 
because faith means the apprehension of the truth, and not a 
distorted view of this text or that, of Scripture — between these 
two stands the Holy Catholic Church of God, and she tells us, as 
against the first class, the Humanitarians, that we are a fallen race, 
that sin is in our blood, that sin is in our nature, that that nature 
is deformed, disfigured by sin ; that the very fountain-head of our 
humanity was corrupted in Adam, and just as, if you disturb 
the fountain-head of the stream, or if you poison it, the whole 
current that flows from it is muddy and disturbed, or poisonous, 
so the whole stream of our humanity that flows from the sin of 
Adam is tainted and disfigured and poisoned by sin ; con- 
sequently, that we stood in need of a Redeemer who would 
atone for our sins, and would, by sacrificing himself, and making 
himself a victim, wipe away the sin of mankind. ' But, on the 
other hand, the Holy Catholic Church teaches us, as against the 
second class, that two wills, two actions, are necessary for man's 
salvation, namely, the will of God, and the will of the man who 
is to be saved ; that we must unite our will with God, and de- 
termine to be saved, otherwise that will of God, which is never 
wanting, will not alone avail for the sanctification or the salvation 
of any man ; that we must not only will with God our salvation, 
but that we must work with God in the work of our salvation ; 
according to the words of St. Paul, " In fear and trembling we 
must work out our salvation." That although the gift of sal- 
vation, comes from God, and is His gift, yet that He will not 
give it except to the man who strains hirhself to lay hold of it, 
according to that other word of the Apostle, Lay hold of 
•eternal life." God is amply sufficient to save us ; God is willing 

28 



434 



Good Works with Faith 



to save us. We can only be saved by His graces, but if we do 
not with our hands lay hold of these graces, and correspond 
with them, there is no salvation for us. Just as if you saw a 
man fallen into the sea, and you threw him a rope, by which, if 
he lay hold of it, you can take him into your boat, or land him 
on to the land ; you are willing to save him, you are anxious to 
save him ; you have put actually into his hands the means by 
which he may be s'aved, but if he refuses to lay hold of that 
measure of salvation, if he refuses the gift that you offer him, of 
life, you cannot force him, and so he is lost by his own fault. 
Now, as it requires for the salvation of every man amongst us, 
two wills, two distinct actions, the will and the action of God, 
our will and our action corresponding with Him, so, also, in the 
redemption two things were necessary in order that man might 
be saved. First of all, dearly beloved, it was necessary to find 
some victim, whose very act was of such infinite value in the 
sight of God, that he might be available for the salvation of 
mankind, and capable of atoning to God's infinite honor and 
glory, which was outraged by sin. A victim must be found 
whose very act is of infinite value, and why? Because the atone- 
ment which he comes to make is infinite ; because no creature 
of God, acting as a creature, with a finite merit and power, and 
the circumscribed action of a creature, can ever atone to the 
Almighty God for sin, which is an infinite evil. The first thing, 
therefore, that is necessary, is an infinite power of atonement, an 
infinite power of merit in the victim for man's sin. The second 
thing that is necessary for redemption is a willingness and a 
capability on the part of their atoner to suffer, and by his suf- 
ferings, and by his sacrifices, and by his atonement, wash away 
the sin. Where shall this victim of infinite merit, yet a victim, 
be found ? If we demand the first condition, namely, the power 
of restoring to God that infinite honor and glory which was 
outraged by sin, if we demand this, we may seek in vain through- 
out all the ranks of God's creatures; we may mount to the 
heaven of heavens and seek throughout the choirs of God's holy 
angels, we shall never find him, because such a one is seated 
upon the throne of God himself. God alone is infinite jn His 
sanctity, in His graces, and, if He will consent to be a victim, 
in His power of atonement, God alone can do it. Man could 
place the cause there, man could commit the sin ; the hand of 



Necessary to Salvation. 



435 



God alone can take that sin away by atonement; and yet, 
strange to say, dearly beloved brethren, God alone cannot do it, 
because God alone cannot furnish us with the second privilege 
of the atoner, namely, the character of a victim. How can God 
suffer? How can God be moved? How can God bleed and 
die ? He is happiness, glory, honor, and greatness itself. How 
can He be humble who is above all things ? Infinitely glorious 
in His own essence. How can He be grieved who is the 
essential happiness of heaven ? He must come down from 
heaven, and He must take a nature capable of suffering and 
pain, and of the shedding of blood ; he must take a nature 
capable of being abused and crushed and victimized, or else 
the world can never find its Redeemer ; yet he must take that 
nature so that everything that he does as a victim, and every- 
thing that he suffers as a victim in that nature, must be attributed 
to God. It must be the action of God ; it must be the suffering 
of God, or else it never can be endowed with the infinite value 
which is necessary for the atonement of man's sin. Behold, 
then, the two great things that we must find, that God found in 
the plan of His redemption ; God furnished one, the earth fur- 
nished the other; God furnished the infinite merit, the infinite 
grace, the infinite value of the atonement in His own divine and 
uncreated word, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity ; but 
when it was a question of finding a victim — of finding a nature 
in which this word should operate, in finding the nature in which 
this word was to be grieved, and to be bruised, and to bleed, 
and to weep, and to pray for man — God was obliged to look 
down from heaven and find that nature upon the earth. There- 
fore, my dearly beloyed brethren, heaven and earth united in 
producing Jesus Christ, and it is as necessary for us to believe 
in the reality of the divinity that, coming down from heaven, 
dwelt in Him, as it is for us to believe in the reality of the hu- 
manity which was assumed and absorbed by Him into His 
divine person. A man may exalt the divinity at the expense 
of the humanity, and he may say : " He was divine, this man, 
Jesus Christ, but, remember. He was not a true man ; He only 
took a human body for a certain purpose, and then, casting it 
from Him, went up into the high heaven of God." The man 
who says this is not a Christian, because he does not believe in 
the reality of the human nature of Jesus Christ. Heretics have 



43^ 



Good Works with Faith 



said this, and the Church cut them off with an anathema. Or 
we may exalt His humanity at the expense of His divinity, and 
say, He was a true man, but He was not united to God by 
personal union ; He was not a divine person, but a human per- 
son ; He was a true man, this man who was crucified for our 
sins — true, and holy, and perfect — but not God." Heretics 
have said this, and say it to-day. Even Mahomet acknowledged 
that the Lord Jesus Christ was the most perfect of men, but He 
was not God. The man who says this is not a Christian, because 
he does not believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ. Now, I 
think, that from what I have said, you must at once conclude 
that in the plan of man's redemption, the divinity was as neces- 
sary as the humanity ; that the humanity was as necessary as the 
divinity ; that the world could never be redeemed without the 
divinity ; that man alone could not do it ; that the world could 
never be redeemed without the humanity, for God alone could 
never suffer. What follows from all this ? It follows, my dearly 
beloved, in logic and in truth, that for the world's redemption, 
Mary on earth was as necessary as the Eternal Father in 
heaven ; that in the decrees and councils of God — in the plan of 
God — the Mother of His humanity was as necessary as the 
Father of His divinity, and that she rises at once in the designs 
of God to the magnificent part that was assigned her in the plan 
of redemption, namely, that the world could not be redeemed 
without her, because she gave the human nature of Jesus Christ, 
without which there was no redemption for man. 

Who died upon the cross? The Son of God. Whose hands 
were these that were nailed to that hard wood ? The hands of 
the Son of God. What person is this that^ I behold all covered 
with wounds, and bleeding, and crowned with thorns? Who is 
this sorrow-stricken person ? That is the Second Person of the 
adorable Trinity ! The same God, begotten in Him consub- 
stantial to the Father, who was from the beginning, and by 
whom all things were made. And if this be the Son of God, 
what right has that woman to look up to Him with a mother's 
eyes? What right have these dying lips to address her as 
mother? Ah ! because, my dearly beloved, He was as truly the 
Son of Mary as He was the Son of God. 

And now, as I wish to take my own time, and to enter fully 
into all these things in successive meditations, let me conclude 



Necessary to Salvation. 



437 



with only one remark. Since I came to the use of reason, and 
learned my catechism, and mastered the idea that was taught 
me of how God in heaven planned and designed the redemption 
of mankind, the greatest puzzle in my life has been — a thing 
that I never could understand — has been, how any one^ believ- 
ing what I have said, could refuse their veneration, their honor, 
and their love to the Blessed Virgin, Mother of Jesus Christ ; 
for it seems to me that nothing is more natural to the heart of 
man than to be grateful, and that, in proportion to the gift 
which is received from any one, in the same proportion do we 
find our hearts springing with gratitude within us, and a strange 
craving and a strange, dissatisfied feeling to find out how we 
can express that gratitude that we feel. And is this a sacred 
feeling? Most sacred; natural, but most sacred. We find in 
the Scriptures the loud tone of praise, honor, and veneration, 
and the gratitude that the inspired writers poured forth towards 
those who were great benefactors of mankind, and especially to 
the women of the Old Testament. How loud, for instance, are 
the praises that the- Scriptures give to the daughter of Jephtha, 
because she sacrificed herself according to her father's vow for 
the people. How loud the praises which celebrated the glorious 
woman, Deborah, who in the day of distress and danger headed 
the army of Israel, drew the sword, and the Scriptures say that 
all the people praised her forevermore, and they sang, Blessed 
be God, because a mother has arisen in Israel." How loud the 
praises of Esther, of whom the Scripture tells us that the Jews 
celebrated an annual festival in her honor because she interceded 
with the King Ahasuerus and saved the people from destruction. 
How loud the praises of Judith, who, coming forth from the 
city upon the rocky summit of the mountain, with her womanly 
hand slew the enemy of Israel and of Israel's God, Holofernes, 
and, returning in triumph, the ancients of the city came forth 
and cried out, Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, and thou ; 
thou art the glory of Israel ; thou art the glory of Jerusalem 
thou art the joy of Israel ; thou art the honor of our people.'" 
And yet, what did Deborah, or Esther, or Judith — what did any 
of these or any other man or woman on the face of the earth do 
for us compared with what Mary did ? Judith cut off the head 
of Holofernes, Mary set her heel on the head of the serpent 
that was the destruction of our race ; Esther pleaded for the 



438 



Good Works with Faith 



people before the Assyrian monarch and saved them from tem- 
poral rum ; Mary pleaded, and pleads to the King of Kings, to 
the King of Heaven, and saves the people from destruction ; 
Jephtha's daughter gave her life ; Mary brought down the life, 
indeed,»from heaven, and gave it to us. And yet, strange to say, 
those who are constantly talking about " the Bible, the Bible, 
the Bible, the open Bible, the Bible free to every man," those 
who call themselves Bible men, those in whose oily mouths this 
Bible is always, every text of it, coming forth as if you taught 
a parrot in its cage to recite it, understanding it as much as the 
bird would — these are the very people who tell us that we may 
join with the Jews of old in the praises of Esther and praises 
of Deborah, that we may cry out in tones of admiration for 
Mary, the sister of Moses, for Rachel, but that we must not say 
a word to express our gratitude, our love, our veneration and 
our honor for the woman, the woman amongst women, the 
spiritual mother of all our race, because her child was our first- 
born brother, the woman that gave us Jesus Christ, the woman that 
gave to him the blood that flowed from his veins upon Calvary 
and saved the world — for this woman no word, save a word of 
reproach, an echo of the hisses of hell, an echo of the sibilation 
of the infernal serpent that was crushed by God. Christ hon- 
ored her ; we must not unite with him in her honor. Christ 
obeyed her; we must not unite with him in obeying her. Christ 
loved her ; we must not let one emotion of love into our heart. 
Who are the men that say this ? I have heard words from 
their lips which they would not permit any man to say of their 
own mothers, and they had the infernal hardihood to say these 
words of the mother of Jesus Christ, of the Son of God ; and, 
my friends, I believe we can in nowise better employ this month 
of May and its devotions than in making reparation to our Lord 
and Saviour and to his holy Mother for the insults that fall upon 
him when they are put upon her. The deepest insult that you 
could offer to any man would be to insult his mother, and the 
more perfect the child is and the more loving, the more keenly 
will he feel that insult. He, with his dying lips, provided for Mary 
his mother a son, a second son, the purest and the most loving 
amongst men. It shows how he thought of her at his last mo- 
ments ; how she was the dearest object that he left upon this 
earth ; and that which is dear to the heart of Jesus Christ should 



Necessary to Salvation. 



439 



always be dear to your hearts and minds- Next to the love, 
eternal, infinite, essential, that bound him in his divinity to his 
eternal Father, next to that in strength, in intensity, in tender- 
ness, was the love that bound him to the Mother who came in 
closest relation with him. And, oh ! Lord Jesus Christ, teach 
us to love what thou lovest, and so revere and honor that 
which thou didst condescend to honor. 



THE PEACE OF GOD. 



[Delivered in the chapel of the " Xavier Alumni Sodality," on Sunday, May 7th, 
1872.] 

" Now, when it was late that same day, being the first day of the week, and the 
doors were shut, where the disciples were gathered together, for fear of the Jewsi 
Jesus came, and stood in the midst, and said to them ; ' Peace be to you.' * * * * 
The disciples, therefore, were glad when they saw the Lord, and He said to them 
again : ' Peace be to you.' Now, Thomas, the son of Didymus, was not with them. 
* * * * Jesus came and stood in the midst of them, and said : ' Peace be to you.' " 
— John XX. 19 to 31. 

HIS mode of salutation was adopted by our divine 
Lord after His resurrection, and not before. Invari- 
ably, for the forty days that He remained with His 
own, after He had risen unto His glory, He saluted 
them with the words, " Peace be to you," as He had said else- 
where. My peace I leave unto you ; My peace I give unto 
you." After His resurrection, I say, He said these words. Be- 
fore His passion He could scarcely say them with truth ; for up 
to the moment that He sent forth His last cry upon the cross — 
saving us — there was war between God and man ; and how could 
the Son of God say, Peace be to you?" But now, when He has 
reconciled all to Himself — omnia reconcilavit et in semet ipsopacem 
faciens — creating peace — that which He Himself produced. He 
gave to His Apostles in the words which I have just read for 
you. 

And now, my dear friends, let us consider what is that peace 
of which our Saviour speaks — what is that peace which He de- 
clares to be the inheritance of the elect — the great legacy that 
He left to the world — the peace of God that surpasseth all 
understanding." In what does it consist ? Do we know the 




The Peace of God. 



441 



meaning — the very definition of it ? It is a simple word, and 
familiar to us, is this word peace ; but I venture to say that it is 
one of those simple words that men do not take the trouble 
to seek to interpret or to understand. In order, then, that we 
may understand what is this peace of God which surpasseth 
all understanding,'' and in order that, in our understanding of 
it, by the light of faith, we may discover our own mission as 
Christian men, I ask you to consider what the mission of the 
divine Son of God was, when He came and was incarnate by 
the Holy Ghost, of the Virgin Mary, and was made man. What 
did He come for ? What work did He have to do ? I answer 
in the language of Scripture: " He came to effect many works 
of peace and reconciliation." In the day that man sinned and 
rebelled against God, he declared war against the Almighty ; 
and God took up the challenge, and declared war against sinners. 
This war involved separation between God and man ; and in 
this state of warfare did Christ our Lord find the world. He 
found the world separated from God, first of all, by error and 
ignorance. There is no truth and there is no knowledge of 
God in the land," was the complaint of the Prophet Isaiah. 

Truth is diminished amongst the children of men," exclaimed, 
with sorrow, the royal Psalmist. Nowhere is God known." 

Before the Son of God came upon the earth, the nations had 
wandered away into a thousand forms of idolatry and of error. 
Every man called his own form of error by the name of re- 
ligion." Some were ''Epicureans;" sensualists — beasts were 
made gods by them. They canonized the principle of impurity, 
and they called it by the name of a goddess ; and they declared 
that this was their religion ! Others there were, brutalized in 
mind, who worshipped their own passions of strife ; and they 
canonized the principle of revenge, and of bloodshed, and they 
worshipped it under the name of Mars. This thing went so 
far that even thieves, robbers, the dishonest, had their own god ; 
and the principle of dishonesty and of thievery was canonized, 
or, rather, deified, and called religion, and embodied under the 
name of the god Mercury ! It is a trick of the devil, and it is a 
trick of the world, to take up some form of error, some form 
of unbelief, and to call that ''religion." When He came that 
was " the way, the truth, and the life," there was darkness over 
the whole earth. The world was " civilized" enough. Arts 



442 



The Peace of God. 



and sciences flourished. It was the "Augustan Era," which 
has given a name to the very highest civiHzation amongst the 
nations, from that day to this. But what was the awful want 
of their civiHzation ? They ignored God ; they took no account 
of God in their knowledge ; they thought they could be wise 
without God. God nullified their wisdom, and abandoned them 
to a reprobate sense ! Thus did mankind declare war against 
the God of truth and of wisdom. What followed from this ? 
Another kind of war, more terrible, if you will, the effect — the 
natural and necessary effect — of that separation of the human 
intellect from God. What was this ? Every form of sin — nay, 
the vilest, the filthiest, the most abominable sin — was found 
amongst men. Not as an exception ; not as a thing to be hid- 
den, but as a thing to be acknowledged, as a matter of course. 
The husband was not faithful to the wife, nor the wife to the 
husband. Juvenal tells us, that in that flourishing society of 
Paganism, as a man saw his wife growing old, and, accordingly 
as the bloom of her youth passed away from her, he began to 
despise her, until, in the words of the satirist, the day came 
when she saw a fair, blooming maiden come into the house, and 
herself, the mother of children, summoned to go out ; because 
her eyes had lost their lustre, and her features the roses and the 
lilies of beauty ; and a stranger was there to take her place. 
There was no principle of fidelity. There was no principle of 
honesty. No man could trust his fellow-man. No man knew 
who was to be trusted. Even the ancient, rugged virtues, that 
the early republics of Greece and Rome produced, had passed 
away. The world was over-civilized for them. They were the 
rough forms, with some semblance of that virtue upon them 
that the rugged, half-civilized man possessed, and were utterly 
laughed at, and scorned, and scoffed at by the civilized Pagan, 
who was the very embodiment of sensuality and impurity ! 

Thus did the world declare war against God, and for sensual- 
ity. The God of purity — they knew Him not — and, therefore, 
they could not believe in Him. "There is no truth, and there 
is no knowledge of God in the land," says the prophet. Then, 
he immediately adds : " Cursing, lying, theft, and adultery have 
overthrown and blotted out much love — because my people, 
saith the Lord, have no grace." 

The second kind of war which our Lord found upon the earth, 



TJie Peace of God. 



443 



was the war between men ; for they who had ceased to know 
God, had ceased to love or respect one another. Split up into 
a multitude of sects, nation against nation, province against 
province, the very history of our race was nothing but a history 
of war, and strife, and bloodshed. Then came the Son of God 
incarnate, with healing hand and powerful touch, to restore the 
world, and to renew the face of our earth. How did He do 
this? It could only be done by Him ; and by Him could it be 
only done by His instituting, and leaving, and declaring the 
truth of God — Himself — and leaving it in the midst of men ; 
the unchangeable truth, the eternal truth, the pure, unmixed, 
bright light of truth, as it beamed forth from the eternal wisdom 
of God. It was only thus that He could restore mankind to 
peace with the God of eternal truth. Then it was necessary, 
that having thus established the truth. He should wipe out the 
sin, by the shedding of His own blood, as a victim, and that He 
should leave behind Him, for ever, in the world, the running 
stream of that sanctifying blood unto the cleansing of the sinner 
and the unclean, unto the strengthening of the weak, unto the 
encouraging of the strong, unto the revivifying of the dead. 
Did Christ do this? Yes. He lifted up His voice and spoke, 
and the voice of the Saviour was the voice of the Eternal God. 
And mark, that, before He saved the world by the shedding of 
His blood, before He redeemed the sin, for three long years, 
night and day, in season and out of season. He was preaching 
and teaching; dispelling error, letting in the light ; for mankind 
would not be prepared for redemption except through the light 
and through the truth of God. Wherefore we find Him now on 
the mountain-side, now on the lake ; now among the Pharisees, 
now in the desert ; now in the temple of Jerusalem, now in the 
by-ways of Judea ; now in the little towns and villages — but 
everywhere — ^'quoticlie ciocens'\^di(:\vm^ every day; for three years 
preparing the world for its redemption ; reconciling the human 
intelligence with the light of God's truth ; opening up the minds, 
and letting the stream of the pure light from God into the 
intellect. Then, when the three years' preparation were over : 
then, when men began to understand what the truth was ; then, 
when He had formed His disciples, and established His apos- 
tolic college ; then did the Eternal Victim go upon the cross, 
and pour out His blood ; and the shedding of that blood washed 



444 



The Peace of God. 



away the sin of the world, and left open those streams from His 
sacred wounds that were to flow through the sacramental chan- 
nels, and that were to find every human soul, with all its 
spiritual w^ants — here, there, and everywhere — until the end of 
time ; according to that promise relating to the Church of the 
Lord, You shall draw waters of joy from the fountains of sor- 
row !" He purified the world by the shedding of His blood. 
But well did He know our nature, Et naturmn nostram ipse 
cognovit'' He made us, and He knew us. Well did He know 
that the stream that He poured forth from His wounds on Cal- 
vary should flow for ever, because the sins which that blood 
alone could wipe away, would be renewed, and renewed again, 
as long as mankind should be upon this earth. ''For," and 
He said it with sorrowing voice, " it needs must be that scandal 
Cometh." 

Thus in the Divine truth and the sacramental grace which He 
gave, did He reconcile mankind to His Heavenly Father, and 
restore peace between God and man. Then, touching the 
other great warfare. He proclaimed the principle of universal 
charity — declared that no injuries, no insult, must obstruct it, 
or break it, or destroy it — declared that we must do good for 
evil — declared that we must live for man, take an interest in 
all men, try to gain the souls of all men ; and that this love, 
this fraternity, this charity, must reign in our hearts at the very 
same time that we are upholding, with every power of our 
mind — and, if necessary, of our body, the sacred principles of 
Divine truth, and of Divine grace. 

Behold, then, my dear friends', the peace that passeth all un- 
derstanding ; the peace that He came to leave and to give. Peace 
means union. When nations are at war, they are separated 
from each other into two hostile camps, and they look upon 
each other with scowling eyes of hatred and anger ; and when 
the war is over, they come forth — they meet — and they join 
hands in peace. So, the meeting of the intellect of man with 
the truth of God — the admission of that Divine truth into the 
mind — the opening of the heart to the admission of the grace 
of God, and of our Lord Himself, by the sacraments, establishes 
the meeting of peace between God and man. The charity of 
which I have spoken — the nobleness of Christian forgiveness, 
which is the complement of Christian humility — the grandeur of 



TJie Peace of God. 



445 



Christian patience and forbearance — establishes peace amongst 
all mankind. It was the design of Christ that that eternal 
peace of which I speak should also be represented by unity — 
that all men should be one by the unity of thought in one com- 
mon faith, by the unity of heart in one common charity. And 
it is worthy of remark that just as our Lord saluted His 
Apostles with the words: " My peace be with you" — after His 
resurrection — so, before His passion — on the night before He 
suffered — He put up his prayer to God — and, over and over 
again to the Father in Heaven — that all men might be one, 
even as He and the Father were one. Father," He says, 
" keep them one, even as Thou and I are one." That is to 
say: a union of faith — a recognition of one undivided and un- 
changing truth — a bowing down of all before one idea — and 
then a union of hearts springing from that union of faith. This 
was the design of Christ, and for this He labored. And this 
the Church has labored to effect. For this she has labored two 
thousand years. She has succeeded, in a great measure, in 
doing it — but the work has been upset and destroyed in many 
lands by the hands of those who were the enemies of God, in 
spoiling and breaking up the fair design of our Lord and 
Saviour. 

Now, in this eternal and immutable truth, preached to all 
men — recognized by all men — gathering in every intelligence — 
respecting all honest deviations — yet uniting all in faith — in this 
truth -and in this sanctifying peace which is in the Catholic 
Church, lies the salvation of the world — the salvation of so- 
ciety — the salvation of every principle which forms this highly- 
commended and often-praised civilization of ours. The mo- 
ment we step one inch out of the Catholic Church and look 
around us, what do we find ? Is there any agency on earth — 
even though it may call itself a religion — that will answer the 
purposes of society? Is there any of these sects, or religions 
(as they call themselves) that can make a man pure ? No. They 
are unable to probe and sound the depths of the human heart. 
They do not pretend to legislate for purity of thought. Prac- 
tically, they reduce the idea of purity to a mere saving of 
appearances before the world — to a mere external respect and 
decorum. Are they able to shake a man out of his sins ? No ; 
there is no reality about them. They have no tribunal of con- 



The Peace of God. 



science, even, to which they oblige a man to come, after care-^ 
ful self-examination. They have no standard of judgment to 
put before him. They have no agency, divinely appointed, 
to crush a man — to humble a man — to break the pride in him — 
to make him confess and avow his sin — and then, lifljng the 
sacramental hand over him, by reason of his humility, his 
sorrow, and his confession — to send him forth renewed and con- 
verted by the grace of God. There is no such thing. There is 
nothing so calculated to enable a man to keep his word faith- 
fully. No. The first principle of fidelity — lying at the root of 
all society — the great fundamental principle of fidelity — is the 
sacrament which makes the sanctity of marriage — by which 
those whom it unites are sealed with the seal of God and 
sanctified with the truth of God's Church. The man is saved 
from the treachery of his own passions. The woman is saved 
from the inconstancy of the heart of man. The family is 
saved in the assertion of the mother's rights — in the placing on 
her head a crown that no hand on earth can touch or take away. 
The future of the world is saved by ennobling the Christian 
woman and wife and mother, with something of the purity of 
the Virgin Mother of God ! Do they do this? Oh, I feel the 
heart within me indignant — the blood almost boiling in my 
veins when I think of it — when I see under the shadow of the 
Crucified, nineteen hundred years after He had sanctified the 
world — when I see men deliberately rooting up the very founda- 
tions of society — loosening the key-stone in the arch, and pull- 
ing it down, in the day when they went back to their Pagan- 
ism — in the day when they threatened that the bond that 
God had tied should be unloosed by the hands of men — in 
the day when they gave the lie to the Lord Himself, who de- 
clared — What God hath joined let no man separate," — in the 
day when man is so flung out into his own temptations ; and the 
woman, no matter who she may be — crowned queen or lowly 
peasant ; the first or the last in the land — is waiting in trepida- 
tion, not knowing the hour when, upon some infamous accusa- 
tion, the writ of divorce may be put into her hand, and the 
mother of children be ordered to go forth, that her place may 
be given to another ! 

Is there any agency to make men honest? No ; they cannot 
do it. A man plunders to-day ; steals with privy hand ; en- 



TJie Peace of God. 



447 



riches himself unlawfully, unjustly, shamefully — and to-morrow 
he goes to some revival, or some camp-meeting, and there he 
blesses the Lord in a loud voice, proclaiming to his admiring 
friends that " he has found the Lord !" But is there any 
agency to stop him, and say : " Hold, my friend, wait for a mo- 
ment ! Have you made restitution to the last farthing for what 
you unjustly acquired ? Have you shaken out that Judas purse 
of yours, until the last dime — the very last piece of silver for 
which you sold yt)ur soul to hell, has gone back again to those 
from whom it was taken ? If not, speak not of finding Christ ! 
Speak not of leaning upon the Lord ! Blaspheme not the 
God of Justice !" Is there any agency outside of the Catholic 
Church to sift a man like this ? Is there any such agency at all ? 
No ; we live in an age of shams — of pretences ; and the worst 
shams of all — the vilest-— the foulest pretences of all — are those 
we find in the so-called " religious world." Take up your re- 
ligious newspapers — take up your religious publications outside 
of the Catholic Church ! I protest it is more than common 
sense or human patience can bear ! If the great Church of the 
living God were not in the midst of you, unchanging in truth — 
ever faithful in every commission — clothed in the freshness of 
her first sanctity, and sanctifying all who come within her sacra- 
mental influence — if she were not here as the city of God, this 
so-called religious world " would bring down the wrath of 
God, — calculated, as its antics are, to bring the Lord, Himself, 
into contempt, exciting the pity of angels, the anger of heaven, 
and the joy of hell. 

A recent writer who has devoted some attention to the con- 
sideration of the question of religious indifference asks — " Why 
are the churches empty ? How is it that the intellectual men 
of the day don't like to listen to sermons ? How is it that they 
take no interest in the things of the Church ? How is it that 
they have no belief?" And a wise voice — a pious voice — 
answers : Because, my friend, you do not know how to preach 
to them. If you want to captivate the intellect of the men of 
our day — if you want to warp them — if you want to con- 
vince them — don't be clinging to antiquated traditions ; — don't 
rest upon these so-called doctrines of a by-gone time. Read 
scientific books. Find there the problems that are bursting up 
continually from modern science, and try to reconcile your 



448 



The Peace of God. 



ideas of religion with those ; — and then preach to them ! 
Then will you show yourself a man of the age — a man 
of progress !" And so, henceforth, the subject matter of our 
sermons is to be electric telegraphs, submarine cables, and flying 
ships. If you want to learn how most effectively to preach," 
adds this wise and able voice, read the latest novels, and try 
to learn from them all the by-ways and highways of the human 
heart." See how delicately they follow ah the chit-chat of 
society, all the little gossipings and love-makings, and the thou- 
sand-and-one influences that act upon the adulterous and de- 
praved heart of man — the wicked passions of man. This is the 
text from which the preacher of to-day is to preach if he wishes 
to attract the intellect of the world. And all this in the very 
sight, and under the shadow of the Cross of Christ, who died 
for man ! Was ever blasphemy so terrible ? And this is what 
is called " religion," by the world. Not a word about Divine 
truth — not a word about Divine grace ! In one of the leading 
journals of New York — an able paper, — a well written paper — in 
a leading article of that paper — this very morning, I read a long 
dissertation on this very question of preaching and preachers ; 
— and the word " truth " appeared only once in that article, — 
and then it came in under the title of ''scientific truth." The 
word ''grace " did not occur even once. But never, even once, 
did simple "truth" occur — or even "religious truth," flash 
across the mind of the able, temperate-minded, judicious man 
that wrote it ! And I don't blame him, for he was writing for 
the age ! He was giving a very fair idea of what the world is, 
and what the world is sure to come to, if the Almighty God, in 
His mercy, does not touch the hearts of men, and give them 
enough of sense to turn to the Catholic Church and hear the 
voice of God — the Divine spouse of Christ — in her teachings. 
Without this voice they cannot hear the voice of God. With- 
out her teaching, this hardened, dried-up heart of man will 
never grow into purity or love. 

Now we come to the mission that you and I have. Grand 
as is the vision that rises before our eyes when we contemplate 
the heavenly beauty and graces of our great and mighty mother, 
the Church, who has never told a lie, nor ever compromised or 
kept back the least portion of the eternal and saving truth which 
mankind should know ; and who has never tolerated the slightest 



TJie Peace of God. 



449 



sin, but to king and peasant has said alike, Be pure, be faitliful, 
or I will cut you off as a rotten branch and cast you into hell," — 
grand, I say, as is the spectacle of this glorious Church — wonder- 
ful and convincing as archer claims to every man's faith and every 
man's obedience — if the advocacy of their claims were left to me, 
and to such as I am, and to the fathers, the world would scarcely 
ever be converted. You have your mission, my dear young 
friends, children of the Church of God ; you have your mission 
— not as preachers, indeed ; yet, far more eloquent than the 
voice of any preacher, in the silent force of example — the exam- 
ple that you must give to those around you, forcing the most 
unwilling and reluctant to look upon you and to see in you 
shining forth the glories of your divine religion. Sit lux 
liiceat omni mundoy He did not say to all, Go and preach ;" 
only to the twelve. But to all of them He said, " Let your 
light shine before men, that they may see your work, and that 
they may give glory to God who is in heaven." And so I say 
to you, let your light shine calmly, but brightly ; that all men 
may see you, and thus give glory to your mother, the Church, 
triumphant in heaven, and militant for you on earth. It is your 
mission to avoAV bravely, manfully — however temperately, yet 
firm as the adamantine rock — every sacred principle of Catholi- 
city, and every iota of the teaching of that Church, when she 
teaches a law ; because her destiny is to be the embodiment of 
truth in this world. " With the heart we believe unto justice." 
But that is not enough ; with the mouth we must make loud 
confession unto salvation — loud confession ! Why? Because 
the devil is making a loud act of his faith, filling the world with 
it, bringing it out everywhere, in books, in newspapers, in 
speeches, in associations, in schools, in the public academies, in 
the universities, in the halls of medicine and of law ; in the 
courts, in the senate — it is the one cry — the harsh grating cry 
by which the devil makes his act of detestable faith in himself, 
and denial of God — an act of faith — an act of diabolical faith that 
meets us at every turn — strikes and offends every sense of ours 
with its terrible language. We cannot take up a book that, if 
we do not find a satyr peering out from its pages, it is the bald, 
stark daub of some fool, who flings his smut or his infidelity 
into the sight of God. We cannot turn to a public journal that 
is not a record of plundering, of villainy, of robbery, and mur- 

29 



450 



The Peace of God. 



ders, and thefts and defalcations. Why, what would a diction- 
ary of this day of ours look like ? It would be filled with 
modern names — page after page — for these modern sins of 
which our honest forefathers scarcely knew anything — these sins, 
the embodiment of the practical immorality of the apostate 
monk of Wurtemburg. We must oppose this terrible exhibition 
of evil which the devil makes in our public streets, and through- 
out every organ that comes before us ; not only by the strong 
assertion of our holy faith, but by the silent and eloquent ex- 
ample of our purity of life, our uprightness and cleanliness of 
heart. And, therefore, it is, that in truth, never perhaps, before, 
was the word of the Lord so well fulfilled in the children of the 
Catholic Church as to-day, when he said, You are the salt of 
the earth." And so they are the salt of the earth throughout 
the world. -How much more in this great country, where we 
are, as it were, in the spring-time, only breaking up the ground 
and throwing in the seed, from which, one hundred fold, the 
fruit will come when we are lying in our cold, forgotten graves. 
The seedlings that we sow to-day, of Catholic faith, of Catholic 
purity, of Catholic truth, will grow up into a fruit, and an abun- 
dance so grand, so magnificent, that, perhaps, it is given to us 
that the ultimate glory of the Church of God shall be the work 
of our hands, and of our lives to-day. It is a great thing to live 
in the spring-time of a nation ; it is a great thing to find oneself 
at the fountain-head of a stream of mighty national existence 
that will swell with every age, gaining momentum as it rolls on 
with the flood of time. It is a great thing to lie at the fountain- 
head of that stream. It is said, with truth — 

" The pebble on the streamlet's brink 

Has changed the course of many a river : 

The dew-drop on the acorn-leaf 
May warp the giant oak forever." 

The river of America's nationality and existence is only be- 
ginning to flow to-day, and we should endeavor to direct it 
into the current of Catholicity. The young oak which is planted 
to-day, and which will, in all probability, overshadow and over- 
spread the whole earth, was but lately hidden in the acorn-cup. 
Ah, let us remember, that even a pebble in the hand of the 
youth, David, hurled against Goliah, struck down the giant. 



TJie Peace of God. 



451 



Let us be the pebble in the hand of God that shall strike down 
this demon — this proud, presumptuous demon of infidelity that 
has entered into the land, and taking " seizing " of the whole 
Continent of America, says, " This soil must be mine." Let us 
be as the pebble in the mountain brook, which turns the stream, 
that will one day be a mighty river, into the great bed of Catho- 
lic truth and Catholic purity that alone can save this land. 
Let us be as the dew-drop on the acorn-leaf — the dew-drop of 
Catholic faith, of Catholic intelligence, and Catholic morality ; 
the tear, as it were, flowing from the pitying eye of the Saviour, 
upon the young, sprouting oak of human existence, training it 
toward heaven — sending it to heaven in the national aspiration, 
in the national action, and not permitting it to be dragged and 
warped, in this way and that, until it lies a stunted and mis- 
begotten plant, clinging to the earth, into which it will fling its 
leaves — its trunk stunted and withered, conveying no sap but 
the sap of religious bigotry and intolerance, and the bitterest 
juices of foolish sectarianism, of absurd, blind folly, exciting the 
laughter of all sensible men upon the earth, the indignation of 
God, and the joy of hell. This is our mission. Say, will you 
fulfill it? Say, O Catholic young men, will you fulfill it? You 
cannot fulfill it without being thorough-going Catholics ; you 
cannot fulfill it without being joined heart and soul with the 
Church, through the Church's head — through the immutable 
rock — the supreme governor — the infallible teacher of God's 
infallible Church : you cannot fulfill this mission until you join 
with that rivalry of Christian self-denial the rivalry of Christian 
purity, and a holy horror of everything hollow^ and pretentious 
— a holy horror of shams. There are no shams in the Catholic 
Church ; there is nothing but shams — religious shams — outside 
of her. You cannot fulfill this mission unless you seek to 
sanctify your hearts and your lives, and to sweeten those lives 
by prayer, by confession, and communion; and I congratulate 
you, that in facing this mission, which lies before every Catholic 
man, — you do it, not as individuals, but as a body, as an organ- 
ization. We live in an age of organizations. There is nothing 
everywhere but organizations, for this thing or for that ; and 
nearly all of them belong to the devil. It is fitting that Christ 
our Lord should have His ; it is fitting that the Church should 
have hers. You are banded together in the name of our Lord 



452 



The Peace of God. 



and Saviour. You" remember that in the Gospel of last Sunday 
the Evangelist tell us — These things are written that all men 
may believe that the Lord Jesus is Christ — the Son of God ; 
and that, believing, they may have life in His name." In His 
name you are assembled together, bound by common hopes, by 
a common purpose, which, without interfering at all with your 
daily duties or your individual liberty, still binds you together 
in a unity of thought, of opinion, and of purpose, to act on this 
great mass of society, in which our mission lies — yours and mine 
— mine in the Word, mine in labor, mine in undivided thought, 
for that and nothing but that — or else I also would be a sham ; 
yours in the manner of which I have spoken to you. And you 
are banded together under the guidance of these religious men 
whom the Church honors by permitting them to take the glori- 
ous name of Jesus as their own ; of these men who, for three 
hundred years, have led the van of the Holy Catholic Church in 
that mighty warfare that is going on, which makes the Church 
a militant Church ; of these men whose fathers before them — 
the saints — received first every blow that was intended to strike 
at the heart of the Church; of these men who are known 
amongst the religious orders of the Church, and represent the 
Saviour in His risen glory; for they rose again at the command 
of the Sovereign Pontiff ; of these men whose name is known in 
every land ; loved with the ardor of Catholic love ; hated and 
detested with the first and most intense hatred of every man 
that hates the glorious and immaculate Church of Christ ; of 
these men who, for three hundred years, have trained and led 
the young intellect of Christendom — have stamped upon every 
young heart that ever came under their hands, the sacred name 
and the sacred love which is their own title and their most 
glorious crown. And, therefore, I congratulate you with hope, 
and a high and well-assured hope, that all that God intends, all 
that the Church expects at your hands, in this glorious Mission- 
ary Society — that — all that — you will give to God and to His 
Church, so as to enable Him to repay you, ten thousand fold, in 
glory, in the kingdom of His everlasting joy ! 



THE EXILES OF ERIN. 



[Lecture delivered at the Academy of ^Jusic, New York, May 22d, 1872.] 

r^^ADIES AND GENTLEMEN: One of the strongest 
(C passions, and the noblest that God has implanted in 

y heart of man, is the love of the land that bore him. 

!'^^>^^l The poet says, and well : 

" Breathes there a man with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, 
This is my own, my native land ? " 

The pleasure of standing upon the soil of our birth ; the 
pleasure of preserving the associations that surrounded our boy- 
hood and our youth ; the pleasure — sad and melancholy though 
it be — of watching every gray hair and every wrinkle that time 
sends even to those whom we love, these are amongst the keen- 
est and the best pleasures of which the heart of man is capable. 
Therefore it is that, at all times, exile from native land has been 
looked upon by men as a penalty and a grievance. This is true 
even of men whom nature has placed upon the most rugged 
and barren soil. The Swiss peasant, who lives amidst the ever- 
lasting snows of the Upper Alps, who sees no form of beauty 
in nature except her grandest and most austere and rugged pro- 
portions, yet so dearly loves his arid mountain-home, that it is 
heart-breaking to him to be banished from it, even though he 
were placed to spend his exile in the choicest and most delicious 
quarters of the earth. Much more does the pain of exile rest 
upon the children of a race, at once the most generous, the most 
kind-hearted, and the most loving in the world. Much more 
does it rest upon the children of a race who look back to the 
mother-land as to a fair and beautiful land ; a climate temperate 



454 



The Exiles of Erin. 



and delicious ; soil fruitful and abundant ; scenery, now rising 
into the glory of magnificence, now sinking into the tenderest 
pastoral beauty ; a history the grandest of all the nations of the 
earth ; associations the tenderest, because the most Christian 
and the purest. And all these, and more, aggravate the misery 
and enhance the pain which the Irishman, of all other men, 
feels when he is exiled from his native land. 

And yet, my friends, amongst the destinies of the nations, 
the destiny of the Irish race, from the earliest time, has been 
that of voluntary or involuntary exile. Two great features dis- 
tinguish the history of our race and our people. The first of 
those is that we are a warrior and warlike race — quick, impulsive, 
generous, fraternal, and fond of a fight for the sake of a fight. 
Indeed, the student of history must see that wherever the Celtic 
blood is, there is a taste for military organization and for war. 
Whilst the Teuton and the Saxon are contented with their 
prosperity, and very often attain to the end of their aims more 
directly and more successfully by negotiations, the Celt, wher- 
ever he is, is always ready to resent an insult or an injury, and 
to create one for the sake of resenting it, very often when it is 
not intended. How strangely has not this great fact been 
brought out in relation to the great Celtic nation of France — 
France, which is of the same race, the same stock, and the same 
blood as Ireland — France, to whom in weal or woe the heart of 
Ireland has always throbbed sympathetically ; exulting in her 
joys, or lamenting or weeping over her sorrows. Hundreds of 
years of history lie before us ; and this French Celtic race has 
always been engaged, in every age and every time, in war with^ 
their more prudent and more cold-blooded neighbors around 
them. Now, if you look through history, you will invariably 
find that France (or the Celt) was always the first to fling down 
the glove, or draw the sword and cry out " War ! " Even in the 
late fatal war, things were so managed and so arranged that, while 
Bismarck was smiling and shrugging his shoulders, and " invisibly 
washing his hands in imperceptible water," the French, the 
moment they saw that war was possible, that moment, unpre- 
pared as they were — not stopping to calculate or reflect — they 
rushed to the front. They are trodden in the earth to-day ; but 
that gallant flag of France has gone down without dishonor, as 
long as it was upheld by the heroic hands of the Celt. 



The Exiles of Erin. 



455 



As it was with our French cousins, so, for good or bad luck, 
as you will, has it been with ourselves. From the day that the 
Dane landed in Ireland, at the close of the eighth century, 
down to this blessed day, at the close of the nineteenth century, 
for the last eleven hundred years, Ireland has been fighting ! 
War ! war ! incessant war ! War with the Dane for three hun- 
dred years ; war with the Saxon for eight hundred years. And, 
unfortunately for Ireland, if we had not the . Dane and the Saxon 
to fight with, we picked quarrels and fought with one another. 

Now the second great feature of our destiny, as traced in 
our history, is that it was the will of God and our fate that a 
large portion of our people should be constantly either driven 
from the Irish shore, or obliged by the course of circumstances, 
or apparently of their own free will, to leave. The Irish Exile 
is a name recognized in history. The Irish Exile is not a being 
of yesterday or of last year. We turn over these honored pages 
of history ; we come to the very brightest pages of the national 
records, and still we find, emblazoned upon the annals of every 
nation of the earth, the grand and the most honored names of 
the Exiles of Erin. It is therefore to this theme that I invite 
your attention this evening. And why? Because, my friends, 
I hold, as an Irishman, that, next to the Gospel I preach and to 
the religion that I love, come the gospel and the religion of my 
love for Ireland and my glory in her. Every point in her history 
that is a record of glory, brings a joy to your heart and to mine. 
The argument that builds up the temple of Irish fame upon the 
foundations of religion and valor, every argument, I say, is an 
argument to induce in your hearts and mine the strong, stormy 
feeling of pride for our native land. Why should we not be 
proud of her? Has she ever, in that long record of our history 
— has she ever wronged or oppressed any people ? Never ! Has 
she ever attempted to plunder from any people their sacred 
birthright of liberty? Never! Has she ever refused, upon the 
invitation of the Church and her own conscience, to undo the 
chains and to strike them off the limbs of the slave ? Never ! 
Has she ever drawn that sword, which she has wielded for cen- 
turies, in an unjust or doubtful cause? Never! Blood has 
stained the sword of Ireland for ages : that blood has dripped 
from the national sword ; but never did Ireland's sword shed a 
drop of blood unjustly, but only in the defense of the highest 



45 6 The Exiles of Erin. 

and holiest and best of causes — the altar of God, and the altar 
of the nation. 

And now, my friends, coming to consider the " Exiles of Erin," 
I find three great epochs are marked in the history of Ireland, 
with the sign of the exodus and exile of her children upon them. 
The first of these goes back for nearly fourteen hundred years. 
In the year 432, Patrick, coming from Rome, preached the Ca- 
tholic faith to Ireland ; and the Irish mind and the Irish heart 
sprang to that faith, took it and embraced it, and put it into 
her blood, and into the lives of her children ; and she became 
Catholic under the very hand of an Apostle such as no nation 
on the earth ever did, or ever will know, until the end of time. 
At once the land became a land, not only of Christians, but of 
saints. Wise and holy kings ruled and governed in Tara. Wise 
and saintly counsellors guided them ; every law was obeyed so 
perfectly and so implicitly, that, in the records of our national 
annals, it is told that, under the golden reign of the great King 
Brian, a young and unprotected female could walk from one end 
of the land to the other, laden with golden treasure ; and no 
man would insult her virtue, or bring a blush to her virgin 
cheek ; nor attempt to rob her of the rich and valuable things 
that she wore. Then the Irish heart, enlarged and expanded 
by the new element of Christian charity, which was infused in 
the nation with its religion — the Irish mind, before so cultivated 
in all pagan literature, now enlightened with the higher and 
more glorious rays of faith — this heart and mind of Ireland 
looked out with pity upon the nations who were around them 
sitting in darkness, in barbarism, and in the shade of death. 
From the Irish monasteries, in the sixth and seventh centuries, 
began the first great exodus, or exile from Ireland, which I call 
the exodus, or going forth of faith. Revelhng in all the beauty 
of her grandeur, enjoying the blessings of peace, the light of 
divine truth, the warmth of holy charity, enjoying that learning, 
until she became the great school-house and university of the 
world — all the nations around sent their youth to Ireland to be 
instructed. Then, these Irish and saintly masters of all human 
and divine knowledge found, by the accounts given by those 
youthful scholars, that there was neither religion, nor faith, nor 
learning in the countries around them. England, now in the 
possession of the Anglo-Saxons, was still in paganism. The 



TJic Exiles of Erin. 



457 



ancient Britons (now called the Welsh) had their Christianity, 
but they kept it to themselves. In their hatred to their Saxon 
invaders, these British bishops, priests, and monks took the 
most cruel form of vengeance that ever was known to be exer- 
cised against a nation. They actually refused to preach the 
Gospel to the Saxons, for fear the Saxons might be saved, and 
get into heaven with themselves. Ireland, evangelized ; Ire- 
land, enlightened ; Ireland, warmed with the rays of divine 
charity, cast a pitying look upon the neighbor country ; and in 
the sixth and seventh centuries, numbers of Irish monks went 
forth and travelled into Scotland and through the land of Eng- 
land, and everywhere preached the Gospel of Christ, spreading 
from the north of England to the remote north of Scotland. 
We find them in every land of Europe. We find them, for in- 
stance, in the valleys of Switzerland, which was evangelized by 
the Irish St. Gall, whose name still marks a town in that coun- 
try, whose name is still held in veneration even by those who 
scarcely know the land of his birth. We find another Irish 
saint of that time, Fridolene or Fridolind ; he w^ent through the 
length and breadth of Europe, until he was known to all men 
for the greatness of his learning and the power of his preaching, 
and for the wonderful sanctity of his life. He was called 
'''Fridolene the Traveller," for he went about from nation to 
nation evangelizing the name of Christ. We find Columbanus 
going forth in that seventh century, penetrating into the heart 
of France, preaching the Gospel to the people of Burgundy ; 
thence passing over the Alps he descended into the plains of 
Lombardy. In that very land where St. Ambrose and other 
lights of the Church had shone, Columbanus preached the Gos- 
pel, and appeared as a new vision of sanctity and goodness 
before the Italian people, who were converted by the sound 
of his voice. At the same time St. Killian penetrated 
into Germany, and evangelized Franconia. But the great- 
est of all these saints and Irish exiles of the seventh century 
was the man whose name is familiar to you all — whose 
name is enshrined amongst the very highest saints of the 
Church's calendar — whose name and whose history has fur- 
nished the material for the Count Montalembert, the greatest 
writer of our age, who found in the name of the Irish St. Col- 
umba, or Columbkille, the theme for the very highest and 



458 The Exiles of Erin. 

grandest piece of history that our age has produced. The 
history of this saint is striking for his extraordinary sanctity, 
and yet brings out fully, forcibly, and wonderfully the strength 
as well as weakness of the Irish character. St. Columbkille was 
a descendant of Nial of the Nine Hostages, who founded in 
Ulster the royal house of O'Neill. His name was O'Neill, and 
he was a near relation to the King of Ulster. He consecrated 
himself to God in his youth, and became a monk. Speedily he 
arose in the fame of his learning and his sanctity. He studied 
in Armagh, in Mungret, near Limerick, on the Shannon ; and 
went at last to the Island of Arran, outside of Galway Bay; and 
there, as he himself tells us, he passed years of his life in prayer 
and study. Well, as you are aware, at this early period, there 
were no books, because there was no art of printing ; and every 
book had to be written out patiently in manuscript. Books 
were then of such value that the price of a copy of the Scrip- 
tures would purchase a large estate. At this time a celebrated 
Irish saint, St. Finnian, had a precious copy of the Book of 
Psalms, written out in goodly characters upon leaves of parch- 
ment. St. Columba wanted a copy of this book for himself; 
and he went to St. Finnian and begged the privilege of the book 
to take a copy of it. He was refused ; the book was too pre- 
cious to be trusted to him. Then he asked at least to be allowed 
to go into the church where the book was deposited ; and there 
he spent night after night, privately writing out a clean copy of 
it. By the time St. Columbkille had finished his copy, some- 
body, who had watched him at the work, went and told St. 
Finnian that the young man had made a copy of his psalter. 
The moment St. Finnian heard of it, he laid claim to this copy 
as belonging to him. St. Columbkille refused to give it up ; 
and appealed to King Dermott, the Ard-righ, at Tara. The- 
king called his counsellors together ; they considered the matter, 
and passed a decree that St. Columbkille should give up the 
copy ; because, the original belonging to St. Finnian, the copy 
was only borrowed from it, and should go with it ; and the Irish 
decree began with the words, Every cow has a right to her 
own calf" Now, mark the action of Columbkille ; a saint, a 
man devoted to prayer and fasting all the days of his life ; a 
man gifted with miraculous powers ; and yet, under all that, as 
thorough-bred an Irishman as ever lived. The moment he heard 



The Exiles of Erin. 



459 



that the king had resolved on giving back his precious book, 
he reproached him, saying : I am a cousin of yours ; and there 
you went against me ! " He piit the clanship — the sheanachus " 
— upon him. The king said he could not help it. What did 
St. Columbkille do ? He took his book under his arm and went 
away to Ulster to raise the clan of the O'Neills. He was him- 
self the son of their king ; they were a powerful clan in the 
country ; and the moment they heard their kinsman's voice 
they rose as one man ; for who ever asked a lot of Irishmen to 
get up a row and was disappointed ? They arose ; they followed 
their glorious, heroic monk down into Westmeath. There they 
met the king and his army ; and, I regret to say, a battle was 
the consequence, in which hundreds of men were slain, and the 
fair plains of the country were flooded with blood. It was only 
then that St. Columbkille perceived the terrible mistake he had 
made. Like an Irishman, he first had the fight out, and then 
he began to reflect on it afterward. In penance for that great 
crime, his confessor, a holy monk named Manuel, condemned 
him to go out of Ireland and exile himself, and never again to 
return to the land of his birth and of his love. Nothing is more 
beautiful or more tender than the letter St. Columbkille wrote 
to his kinsmen in Ulster. My fate is sealed," he says, " my 
doom is sealed. A man told me that I must exile myself from 
Ireland ; and that man I recognize as an angel of God ; and I 
must go." With breaking heart and weeping eyes he bade a 
last farewell to the green " Island of vSaints," and went to an 
island among the Hebrides, on the northern coast of Scotland. 
There, in the mist and storms of that inhospitable region, there, 
upon a bare rock, out from the mainland, he built a monastery ; 
and there did he found the far-famed school of lona. That 
school, founded under the eyes and under the influence of St. 
Columbkille, became the great mother and fountain-head of 
that grand monasticism which was destined to evangelize so 
many nations, and to Christianize all Scotland and the northern 
parts of England. We shall return to St. Columbkille again, in 
the course of the lecture, when I come to gather up the three 
great periods of exile, in speaking of the one love which charac- 
terized them all. 

The next century following, the Irish monk, St. Cataldus, 
penetrated through the length and breadth of Italy, preaching 



a6o 



The Exiles of Erin. 



everywhere ; until at length the Pope of Rome made him Bishop 
of Sarento, in the south of Italy. Another Irish monk, Rom- 
auld, went out in the eighth century and evangelized Brabant 
and the Low Countries. Two Irish monks, Clement and Albinus, 
were so celebrated throughout the schools of Europe in the 
eighth century, that they were known by the name of the 

Disseminators of Wisdom," or the " Philosophers." In a 
word, the Irish monks of the seventh, eighth, and ninth centu- 
ries were the greatest evangelists, and the greatest apostles, and 
the most learned men that the world then possessed. They 
gave to their island home the strange title amongst the nations 
of the Island of Saints;" and the sanctity that made Ireland 
the bright glory of Christendom, they poured abroad upon their 
apostolic labors, until they brought that message Avhich sancti- 
fied Ireland, home to every people in the then known world. 

For two hundred years after Ireland's Catholicity was preached 
to her by St. Patrick, no Catholic missionary was ever heard to 
preach the name of Christ to the Saxons of England. St. Pat- 
rick came to Ireland in the year 432. St. Augustine came to 
England, for the first time, to preach to the Saxons, in the year 
596. Nearly two hundred years intervened ; during which time 
St. Columbkille and his children had evangelized the Scots and 
Picts of the north ; and when the Roman monk, St. Augustine, 
and his Benedictines came, they landed in the south of England. 
England was then divided into seven kingdoms, under the 
Saxons; and thirty-six years after the death of St. Augustine, we 
find that the Benedictine monks, who came from Rome, had only 
preached to one nation out of the seven, what is now the county 
of Kent — whilst the Irish monks had evangelized and preached 
the Gospel to all of the other kingdoms of the Saxon Heptarchy. 
Therefore, I claim that from Ireland, and Ireland's monasticism, 
ma^ny of the nations of Europe, and more especially the Scots 
and the kingdom of Northumbria (comprising all England north 
of the Humber), lit their lamps, and entered into the glorious 
light of Christ. Then the light that was in Ireland shone forth 
from her. As when the clouds part and let the strong rays of 
the noonday sun flood the darkened world, filling it with light 
and joy and worship, so the clouds of ignorance and paganism 
parted, and forth from the pure, ardent light of Ireland's Catho- 
licity came the faith which illumined, and brightened, and evan- 



TJic Exiles of Erin. 



461 



gelized, and saved all the surrounding countries during that first 
o-reat exodus of Ireland's faith. 

Is there anything in all this to be ashamed of? There are na- 
tions in the world that must go up to the fountain-head of their 
history, and touch, not heroes, not saints, but robbers and the 
vilest men of the earth. It is worthy of remark, that nearly 
every nation, when it goes up to the fountain-head of its history, 
has to be very quiet and very humble, indeed. The Romans, for 
instance, w^ho conquered the whole world, when they trace their 
history to its fountain-head, come to a day when the founda- 
tions of Rome were laid by Romulus and Remus ; and we find 
that the first, inhabitants of Rome were the banditti and robbers 
who escaped from the neighboring cities, and came for refuge 
into Rome — the offscourings of Tuscany and Latium, and all 
the surrounding countries. We find, when it was a question of 
propagating the Roman people, the very first thing these robbers 
did was an act worthy of them : they rushed out, and, by force 
and violence, took the wives and daughters of their peaceable 
neighbors. We find that Romulus, the founder of Rome, with 
his own hand, shed his brother's blood, as Cain did that of Abel. 
As it was in the first days of Roman history, so it is with nearly 
every nation. What is English history? It takes us back to the 
time when troops of half-naked barbarians roamed over the hills 
and valleys. Then came the Saxon, to take every liberty from 
them, to rob the ancient Briton of his country, and his land of 
freedom. What is this but the fountain-head of history traced 
up to its barbarism and injustice. But trace up the far more 
ancient history of Ireland. No man, even the noblest of all on 
the earth, can point to such an ancestry as ours. Trace up that 
history to the days when the Druids stood in Tara ; when the 
crowned monarch on the throne, with the Brehons, sat to ad- 
minister justice — and listen to the glories of their song. Trace 
it up to the very fountain-head, and you will find civilization, 
and law, and power, and virtue, and glory. Come down but a 
day from out those pagan recesses of our earliest history — ■ 
come down but a day on the road of time, and you step into 
the full light of Ireland's Christian holiness and glory, when 
she was the light of the )\^orld and the glory of the Church of 
Christ. 

Now, my friends, we pass to the second exodus; and here, 



4^2 TJie Exiles of Erin. 

alas ! it is not the voluntary exile going forth from his native 
land, reluctantly and regretfully, yet impelled by the high and 
celestial motives that animate the heart of the Apostle and the 
missionary ; it is not the saint looking back with tearful eyes 
upon the land which he sacrifices and abandons for the posses- 
sion of higher aims — the souls of men on earth and the higher 
place in heaven. No ! the second exodus in Ireland was one 
of the most terrible in her history. We know that from the 
days when the English invasion took shape and form — we know 
that in proportion as the English got firm hold of the land — in 
proportion as they divided and consequently defeated chieftain 
after chieftain, king after king — that in proportion as they en- 
croached upon the Irish soil, there was, at last, no room upon 
that soil for a man who loved his native land. And this, my 
friends, is one of the worst consequences of national conquest ; 
this is one of the most terrible consequences of a nation being 
subdued and enslaved : for, the moment the foreigner or the 
invader sets his foot firmly on the soil, that moment one of the 
highest aims and virtues — ^namely, the virtue of patriotism — 
becomes treason and a crime. But yesterday, the people of 
Alsace and Lorraine gloried in the name and in the glory of 
their beloved France. To-day, if the man of Alsace or Lor- 
raine only lifts his hat to the statue of France, or says in public 
Long live ancient and glorious France," he is taken and put 
into prison, and tried as a malefactor and arraigned as a traitor 
before the tribunals of the country. And why? Because the 
curse of a foreign invasion and an unjust occupation is on the 
land. If Germany, instead of being the conqueror, were the 
conquered land, and the French unjustly and wickedly took 
possession of the provinces within the empire, then the German 
would not be able to love his native land, or to express the 
emotions of his heart without treason. So it is in Ireland ; 
patriotism became a crime in proportion as the English power 
advanced, and the words of the poet are unfortunately veri- 
fied : 

" Unprized are her sons till they've learned to betray, 

Undistinguished they live, if they shame not their sires ; 
And the torch that would light them to dignity's way 

Must be caught from the pile where their country expires." 



What wonder then, that we find a people, naturally warlike, 



The Exiles of E?'in. 



463 



naturally high-spirited, a people whose spirit was never crushed, 
nor never knew how to bend, even under centuries of oppres- 
sion and persecution — never; ''the spirit of Ireland," says Tom 
Moore, ''may be broken, but never would bend;" what wonder, 
I say, that this people, this warlike population, with its high- 
minded and time-honored nobility, when they found that they 
could not love their country at home, where there were inter- 
minable and everlasting battles ; that they turned their faces to 
other lands, and sought elsewhere the distinction and military 
glory which their nationality and religion deprived them of in 
their native land ? So, we find that, as early as Elizabeth's time, 
and even in that of Henry VIII., Irishmen had begun to emigrate ; 
and the armies of Spain, and Austria, and France were glad to 
receive them ; for well they knew that wherever the Irish 
soldier stood in the post of danger, that post was secure until 
the enemy walked over the corpses of those who defended it. 

Amongst many other risings, Ireland rose almost to a man in 
the year 1641. The Confederation of Kilkenny was formed, and 
the Catholics of Ireland, unable to bear longer the cruel, heart- 
less, and bloody persecution of Elizabeth and her successors, 
banded together as one man. All the ancient nobility of Ire- 
land, all the Catholic chieftains — the O'Neills, the O'Donnells, 
the McDermotts, in the North ; and McCarthy Mor, in the 
South ; the O'Reillys, in Cavan ; the Clanricarde Burkes of 
Connaught ; the Geraldines of Leinster — in a word, all the Irish 
chivalry and nobility came together, and they formed a National 
Confederation for the national defence. For eleven years this 
war was continued. An Irishman who had attained to the 
highest rank in the armies of Spain — who was the most dis- 
tinguished, the grandest soldier of his age — came over — leaving 
his post at the head of the Spanish army, then the bravest and 
finest in Europe — and landed on the shores of Ireland. His 
name was the immortal Owen Roe O'Neill. He rallied the 
Irish forces, and met on many a well-fought field the armies of 
England. Thanks be to God ! though they poisoned him, they 
could not conquer him with the sword. Thanks be to God ! 
there is one Irishman upon whose grave may be written — 
" Here lies a man who never drew the sword for Ireland on the 
battle-field without scattering his enemies like chaff before the 
wind." He met, at Benburb, on the banks of the Boyne, the 



464 The Exiles of Erin. 

English General, Monroe, with a large and well-disciplined army. 
O'Neill formed his men into one solid column, flanking them 
with his artillery, and giving the word to advance, straight to 
the very heart of the English army he pierced like an insur- 
mountable wedge. The columns of the English army swarmed 
upon every side ; from every quarter they came. Still on the 
Irish went, until they gained the brow of Benburb Hill ; nor 
was all the chivalry of England able to stand against them. 
When they gained the brow of the hill, O'Neill, on looking 
around, could see the enemy flying on every side, as from the 
avenging angel of God. 

On that day, Ireland rang with the name of O'Neill, and was 
reminded of the great Hugh, who, at the famous Yellow 
Ford," met the English Field-Marshal Bagenal, at the head of a 
large army. He not only routed him, but exterminated his 
army, and scarcely left a man to go home to their strongholds 
around Dublin, to tell, with blanched lips, the tale that they had 
been destroyed by the Irish. 

Cromwell landed in Ireland ; and Owen Roe O'Neill, at the 
head of his army, advanced from the North to measure swords 
with the Roundhead of England. Ah! well they knew the 
mettle the man was made of; and they sent a traitor into his 
camp to put poison into the Irishman's wine ! 

In the death of Owen Roe O'Neill, the great Confederation 
of Ireland was broken ; so that, with divided counsels, they 
scarcely knew whom to obey; until on the 12th of May, 1652, 
eleven years after the Confederation was established, Galway, 
the last stronghold of the Irish, had to yield. The cause was 
lost — lost again ! and the Irish nobility, and the rank and file 
of the Irish army, rather than remain at home and serve as 
soldiers with Cromwell, went to France, Austria, and Spain, and 
left their mark upon the history of Europe, as that history is 
proud to record. 

On the 27th of October, 1652, Limerick fell. Forty years 
later, Ireland is in arms again. This time the English king is at 
their head — King James the Second. I wish to God he had 
been a braver man ; he would not then have deserved the name 
of Shea7nus ahocka He was too fond of taking out his 
handkerchief, and putting it to his eyes, and crying out to the 
Irish soldiers — " Oh ! spare my English subjects ! " and when 



The Exiles of Erin. 



465 



the Irish dragoons were sweeping down upon Schomberg, on 
the slopes of the Boyne — when the Irish dragoons would have 
driven the Brunswickers into that river, and the history of Ire- 
land would have taken from the beautiful Boyne the name of 
reproach it has to this day — James was the first to give orders, 
" Stop a little ! don't let them make so desperate a charge I " 
Any man that knows the history of his country knows that, if 
we study the actions and valor of the Irish army at that very 
Boyne — at Athlone — at Aughrim — although they lost the field, 
they did not lose their honor ; but they crowned their loss with 
immortal glory. At length the campaign drew to a close ; and 
when 1691 came — forty years after the former siege of Limerick 
— the heroic city is once more surrounded by the flower of the 
English army ; while within its walls were ten thousand Irishmen, 
with Patrick Sarsfield, Earl of Lucan, at their head. A breach 
was made in the walls ; three times the whole strength of the 
English army was hurled against the defenders of the walls of 
Limerick. Three times within that breach arose the wild shout 
of the Irish soldiers ; and three times was the whole might of 
Orange William's army swept away from that breach. In the 
third of these assaults, combatants appeared who are not gen- 
erally seen, either on the battle-field or at the hustings in Ire- 
land. The Irish women are not what you call "Women's rights 
people." The women of Ireland do not go in much for 
women's associations ;" and they do not go in at all for " Free 
Love;" but they "went for " the English in the last assault. 
The brave, dark-eyed mothers and daughters of Southern Ire- 
land stood, shoulder to shoulder, with their brothers and fathers. 
In the breach they stood ; and, whilst the men defended Irish 
nationality, in that terrible hour, the women of Ireland raised 
their strong hands in defence of Ireland's purity and Ireland's 
right. W^ell they might ! for never had womanhood a more 
sacred, pure, and honorable cause to defend, than when the 
women of Limerick opposed the base and evil-minded invaders 
of their country. 

Well, Limerick yielded. King William and his generals 
found they could not take the city ; so they made terms with 
Sarsfield and his men, to the effect, that the Irish army were to 
go out with drums beating, colors flying, and with arms in their 
hands ; free to stay in Ireland, if they wished ; or to join the 

30 



466 



The Exiles of Erin. 



service of any foreign power they pleased. The Treaty of 
Limerick granted the Catholics of Ireland as much religious 
liberty as they enjoyed under the Stuarts. That treaty was 
won by. the bravery of the Irish soldiers within the shattered 
walls of Limerick. The Treaty of Limerick granted the Irish 
merchants the same privileges and the same rights as the Eng- 
lish merchants had. But, as soon as Sarsfield and his thirty 
thousand soldiers were gone, before the ink was dry upon the 
treaty, it was broken. The Lord Justices that signed it returned 
to Dublin, and a certain Mr. Dopping (he was the Protestant 
Bishop of Meath) preached a sermon ; and the subject of that 
sermon was, on the sin of keeping their oaths with the Cath- 
olics ! The treaty was broken ere the ink upon it was scarce 
dry ; and a period of confiscation and misery most terrible fol- 
lowed. 

Meantime, Sarsfield and his poor companions took themselves 
to France. Exiles of Hope," they went in the hope that they 
would one day return with their brave French allies, and sweep 
the Saxons from off the soil of Erin. By the time Sarsfield 
arrived in France (1691), there were thirty thousand Irishmen in 
the service of King Louis. There were, at the same time, somj 
ten thousand in the service of Spain, and an equal number in 
the service of Austria ; and it is worthy of notice that the Irish- 
men of Leinster and of Meath joined the service of Austria, with 
their leaders, the Nugents and the Kavanaghs — names still per- 
petuated in the Austrian army. I myself knew a Field-Marshal 
Nugent, of Irish descent, in the Austrian army. The men of 
the North went to Spain, under the O'Reillys and the O'Don- 
nells. At that very time Austria and Spain were fighting against 
France. So that, whilst there were thirty thousand Irishmen in 
the French army, there were nearly twenty thousand in the 
other armies. There the bone and sinew and the blood of 
Ireland were engaged in the work — the unhappy work — of 
slaughtering one another! Oh, how sad to think that the 
bravest soldiers that ever stood — the bravest in the world — that 
they should be thus employed, fighting for causes of which they 
knew nothing, and for monarchs who cared nothing about them ; 
and the hands which should have been joined for Ireland, in 
some glorious effort for Irish purposes, were actually imbrued in 
.their brothers' blood on many a battle-field in Europe. Sars- 



The Exiles of Erin. 



467 



field, shortly after his arrival with his Connaught men and Mun- 
ster men, took service with King Louis of France. He first 
crossed swords with the English at the siege of a town of Flan- 
ders. There he so behaved w4th his Irishmen, and so thor- 
oughly cleared the field, so completely swept away the English 
that were opposed to him, bearing down upon them when they 
first wavered, with the awful dash of Lord Clare's dragoons, that 
Sarsfield w^as created a Marshal of France. We find him again 
at the Battle of Landen. He is at the head of the Irish Brigade, 
and opposed to him is King William — Orange William — whom 
he had often met upon many a field before. Now the close of a 
hard-fought day is approaching. The English, with their Dutch 
auxiliaries, are in full flight. Sarsfield, with his sword in hand, 
was at the head of his troops ; when suddenly a musket-ball 
struck that heroic breast, and he falls upon the field of glory. 
When the film of death was coming over his eyes, he placed his 
hand unconsciously to the wound, and withdrawing it covered 
with his heart's blood, he cried : O God, that this blood were 
shed for Ireland ! " 

The fortunes of the French were now in the ascendant, from 
the year 1691 to 1696. Then the powerful Duke of Marlborough 
arose with Prince Eugene, at the head of the Austrian army ; 
and France began to suffer reverses. The star of France began 
to go dowm. Marlborough conquered on many a glorious field, 
and with the English soldiers drove the French before him, at 
Malplaquet, at Oudenard, at Ramillies, and other places. But 
it is a singular thing, which history records, that, in every one 
of these battles, in which the French were defeated, the Eng- 
lish, often in the hour of their victory, had to fly before the 
Irish Brigade. So the poet says : 

When on Ramillies' bloody field, 
The baffled French were forced to yield, 
The victor Saxnos backward reeled, 
Before the charge of Clare's Dragoons." 

Yes, the French army on that day w^ere routed ; but there was 
one division of that army that retired from the field victorious, 
and with the English standards which they had captured in their 
hands. And this was the Irish Brigade. 

Years followed years, but the strength of the exiles was still 



468 



The Exiles of Erin. 



kept up by the hope that they would one day return to Ireland, 
and strike a blow for their dear old land. Years followed years — 
Sarsfield was in his grave more than forty years. France was 
still playing a losing game in the war of the Spanish succession. 
Marshal Saxe arose, and with King Louis XIV. laid siege to 
Tournay, in Flanders. He had seventy-five thousand men 
under his command. Whilst he was still besieging the city, the 
Duke of Cumberland, the son of George II. — one of the most 
awful wTetches that ever cursed the face of the earth with his 
presence ; a man whose heart knew no pity ; a man who mowed 
down the poor Highlanders at Culloden ; a man whose heart 
knew no love, whose passions knew no restraint ; whose name to 
this day is spoken by every Englishman in a whisper, as if he 
was ashamed of it — he commanded fifty-five thousand men, 
mostly English, with some Dutch auxiliaries ; and marched at 
the head of this tremendous army to raise the siege of Tournay. 
When the French king heard of the approach of the English 
he took forty-five thousand men from the siege, and leaving 
eighteen thousand to continue it, went on with the rest, includ- 
ing the Irish Brigade, to meet the Duke of Cumberland. They 
met him on the slopes of Fontenoy. The French general took 
his position upon the village of Fontenoy. It was on the 
crowning slope of this hill, which extended on every side, he 
stretched his line, on one side, to the village called St. Antoine, 
on the other side, through a wood called De Barri's wood ; and 
there entrenched, and strongly established, he waited his English 
foe. Cumberland arrived at the head of his English army, and 
the whole day long assaulted the French position, in vain. He 
sent his Dutchmen to attack St. Antoine ; twice they attacked 
the village, and the lines — and twice were they driven back with 
slaughter. Three times the English themselves advanced to the 
village of Fontenoy ; three times were they driven back by the 
French. They tried to penetrate into De Barri's wood, on the 
left, but the French artillery were massed within ; and again and 
again were they driven back ; until, when the evening was com- 
ing, the Duke of Cumberland, seeing the day was going against 
him, assembled all the veteran and tried soldiers of his army, 
and formed a massive column of six thousand men, six pieces 
of cannon in front of them, and six on either side of them. 
They were placed under command of Lord John Hay ; and 



The Exiles of Erin. 



469 



he adopted the same tactics which Owen Roe O'Neill adopted 
at Benburb. Forming the six thousand men in a solid column, 
he gave orders to march right through the village of Fontenoy — 
right through the centre of the French — until they got into their 
rear — ^and then to turn and sweep them off the field. The word 
was given to march ; and this I will say — Irishman as I am to 
the heart's core — I have read as much of the world's history as 
the majority of men ; and I must say that, never in the annals 
of history have I read of anything more glorious than the hero- 
ism of these six thousand Englishmen that day. The French 
closed in around them ; they battered the head of the column 
with cannon ; but that column marched on like a wall of iron. 
These Englishmen marched through the French lines ; their men 
fell on every side, but as soon as a man fell, another stepped 
into his place. On they marched like a wall of iron, penetrating 
into the French lines. In vain the French tirailleurs hung 
upon their flanks ; in vain did the French army oppose them ; 
they penetrated it like a wedge ; in vain did the King's Household 
Cavalry charge upon them ; they were scattered by the English 
fire; until at length, King Louis (taught in the school of misfor- 
tune) turned his rein to fly. Marshal Saxe stopped him. Not 
yet, my liege," he said. Come up, Lord Clare, with your Irish. 
Tkvs <xt) be<xUc, clear the way ! " Oh ! to hear the wild cheer with 
which the Irish Brigade rushed into the fight that day ! This 
glorious victory is thus recorded by one of Ireland's greatest 
poets, the illustrious and immortal Thomas Davis : 

Thrice, at the huts of Fontenoy, the English cokimn failed, 

And, twice, the lines of Saint Antoine, the Dutch in vain assailed ; 

For town and slope were filled with fort and flanking battery, 

And well they swept the English ranks, and Dutch auxiliary. 

As vainly through De Barri's wood the British soldiers burst. 

The French artillery drove them back, diminished and dispersed. 

The bloody Duke of Cumberland beheld with anxious eye, 

And ordered up his last reserve, his latest chance to try : 

On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, how fast his Generals ride ! 

And mustering come his chosen troops, like clouds at eventide. 

Six thousand English veterans in stately column tread, 
Their cannon blaze in front and flank ; Lord Hay is at their head ; 
Steady they step adown the slope — steady they climb the hill ; 
Steady they load — steady they 'fire, moving right onward still. 
Betwixt the wood and Fontenoy, as through a furnace blast, 
Through rampart, trench, and palisade, and bullets showering fast ; 



47^ TJlc Exiles of Erin. 

And on the open plain above they rose, and kept their course, 
With ready fire and grim resolve, that mocked at hostile force : 
Past Fontenoy, past Fontenoy, while thinner grow their ranks — 
They break, as broke the Zuyder Zee through Holland's ocean banks. 

More idly than the Summer flies, French tirailleurs rush round ; 

As stubble to the lava tide, French squadrons strew the ground ; 

Bomb-shell, and grape, and round-shot tore ; still on they marched and fired 

Fast, from each volley, grenadier and voltigeur retired. 

" Push on, my household cavalr}- ! " King Louis madly cried ; 

To death they msh, but rude their shock — not unavenged they died. 

On through the camp the column trod — King Louis turns his rem ; 

" Not yet, my liege," Saxe interposed, "the Irish troops remain." 

And Fontenoy, famed Fontenoy, had been a Waterloo, 

Were not these exiles ready then, fresh, vehement, and true. 

" Lord Clare," he says, " you have your wish — there are your Saxon foes ! " 

The -Marshal almost smiles to see, so furiously he goes I 

How fierce the look these exiles wear, who're wont to be so gay — 

The treasured wrongs of fifty years are in their heaits to-day — 

The treaty broken, ere the ink whereA^dth 'twas writ could diy ; 

Their plundered homes, their mined shrines, their women's parting cr}' ; 

Their priesthood hunted down like wolves, their countr}' overthrown ; — 

Each looks, as if revenge for all were staked on him alone. 

On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, nor ever yet elsewhere, 

Rushed on to fight a nobler band than those proud exiles were. 

O'Brien's voice is hoarse with joy, as, halting, he commands, 

" Fix bay'nets" — " Charge I " Like mountain stoim rush on these fieiy band 

Thin is the English column now, and faint their volleys grow, 

Yet, must'ring all the strength they have, they make a gallant show. 

They dress their ranks upon the hill to face that battle wind — 

Their bayonets the breakers' foam ; like rocks the men behind ! 

One volley crashes from their line, when, through the surging smoke, 

With empty guns clutched in their hands, the headlong Irish broke. 

On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, hark to that fierce huzza I 

" Revenge ! remember Limerick 1 dash down the Sassanach I " 

Like lions leaping at a fold, when mad with hunger's pang, 

Right up against the English line the Irish exiles sprang : 

Bright was their steel, 'tis bloody now ; their guns are filled with gore ; 

Through shattered ranks, and severed files, and trampled flags they tore. 

The English strove with desperate strength ; paused, rallied, staggered, fled- 

The green hill-side is matted close with dying and with dead. 

Across the plain, and far away passed on that hideous ^■\Tack, 

While cavalier and fantassin dash in upon their track. 

On Fontenoy, on Fontenoy, like eagles in the sun. 

With bloody plumes the Irish stand — the field is fought and won ! 



The Exiles of Eriii. 



471 



So they fought, serving in France, in Spain, and in Austria ; 
but the hope that kept them up was never realized. 

The French Revolution came, and the Irish Brigade was dis- 
solved. That French Revolution opened the way for the third 
exodus from Ireland. The Irish got a ray of hope when the 
wild cry of freedom resounded on the battle-fields of Europe. 
The fever of the French Revolution spread to Ireland, and 
created the insurrection of '98, '98, and the men of '98, were 
extinguished in blood. Bravely they fought, and well ; and had 
Sarsfield himself, or the heroic Lord Clare, been at XeAv Ross, 
or at the foot of Tara's Hill, on the banks of the Boyne, when 
the ninety Wexford men fought a regiment of British dragoons, 
they would not have been ashamed of their countrymen. 

The year 1800 saw Ireland deprived of her Parliament ; and 
from that day every honest Irishman, who loved his country, 
had an additional argument to turn his eyes to some other land. 
The making of our laws was passed over to the English. They 
knew nothing about us ; they had no regard for us ; they 
wished, as their acts proved, to destroy the industry of Ireland ; 
and some of the very first acts of the United Parliament, when 
it was transferred to England, were for the destruction of the 
commerce and trade of Ireland. Some of the first things they 
did were to repeal the acts of the glorious epoch of 1782, when 
the " Irish Volunteers," with arms in their hands, Avere able to 
exact justice from the Government of England. 

But now, Ireland turned with wistful eyes. From her west- 
ern slopes she looked across the ocean ; and, far away in the 
west, she beheld a mighty country springing up, where the 
exile might find a home, where freemen might find air to 
breathe, and where the lover of his country might find a country 
worthy of his love. We may say that the emigration to America 
took shape and form from the day Ireland lost her legislative 
independence, by the transfer of her Parliament to England ; 
for, next to the privilege of loving his country, the dearest 
privilege any man can have is that of having a voice in the 
government and the making of his own laws. By the Act of 
Union, a debased, corrupted, and perjured Protestant Irish 
Parliament declared, in the face of the world, that Irishmen 
did not know how to make laws for themselves ; and if they 
did not, no man can blame Castlereagh for taking them at 



472 



The Exiles of Erin. 



their own word. He was an Irishman, and he took the legis- 
lative assembly from Dublin and transferred it to London ; 
but if he did, it was that very assembly itself that voted for 
its own transfer and its own destruction. In vain did Grattan 
rise — the immortal Henry Grattan; in vain did he thunder forth 
in the cause of justice and of Irish nationality. In vain did 
every honest man lift up his voice. The corrupt legislature 
played into the hands of Pitt and Castlereagh, and Castlereagh 
carried his measure ; and went on rejoicing under his titles and 
honors, and increasing in power, and dignity, and wealth ; until, 
one fine morning, he tried the keen edge of a razor on his own 
throat. He cut his jugular artery, and inflicted on himself a 
tremendous inconvenience. Whatever things he had to fear in 
this world, I am greatly afraid he did not improve his position 
by hurrying into the other. But what was so inconvenient to 
Castlereagh, was a great blessing to Ireland, to England, and to 
the whole world ; for it is a great blessing to this world when 
any scoundrel makes his bow and goes out of it. 

Well, my friends, it is of these early exiles — the exiles of '98 
— the exiles who went in the preceding years, under William's 
persecutions — the exiles who were banished by Cromwell, when 
one hundred thousand men — and among them four hundred and 
fifty priests of my own Order — were sent as slaves to the Barba- 
does, and there died in the sugar plantations ; it was of these 
exiles that the Scottish poet, Campbell, wrote his famous verses 
on the " Exile of Erin." The lines of this famous poem are of 
a time anterior to our own. He speaks of the Irish exile as one 
who was playing upon a harp. Now, up to about seventy years 
ago, the harp was a common instrument in Ireland ; and the 
aged harpers lived down to the days of Carolan, who died a 
few years before the troubles of '98 began. We can, therefore, 
enter into the sentiment of the poet, w^ho thus describes our un- 
fortunate countryman, driven by force and oppression from all 
that he loved and cherished on this earth : 

" There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin, 

The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill ; 
For his country he sighed, when at twilight repairing 

To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill. 
But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion, 
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean ; 
Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion, 

He sang the bold anthem of Erin go Bragh. 



The Exiles of Erin, 



473 



" Oh, sad is my fate, said the heart-broken stranger, 

The wild-deer and wolf to a covert can flee ; 
But I have no refuge from famine and danger ; 

A home and a country remain not for me ! 
Ah ! never again in the green shady bowers, 
Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours, 
Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers, 

And strike the sweet numbers of Erin go Bragh. 

" O Erin ! my country, though sad and forsaken. 

In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore ; 
But, alas ! in a far foreign land I awaken. 

And sigh for the friends that can meet me no more. 
Oh, cruel fate, wilt thou never replace me 
In a mansion of peace, where no perils can chase me ? 
Ah ! never again shall my brothers embrace me ! 

They died to defend me, or live to deplore. 

" Where is my cabin-door, fast by the wild wood ? 
Sisters and sire, did ye weep for its fall ? 
Where is the mother that looked on my childhood? 

And where is the bosom-friend, dearer than all ? 
Ah, my sad heart, long abandoned by pleasure, 
Why did it doat on a fast-fading treasure ? 
Tears, like the rain-drops, may fall without measure, 
But rapture and beauty they cannot recall. 

" But yet, all its fond recollections suppressing. 

One dying wish my lone bosom shall draw : 
Erin, an exile bequeathes thee his blessing. 

Land of my forefathers, Erin go Bragh ! 
Buried and cold, when my heart stills its motion, 
Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean ; 
And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion, 

Erin, mavourneen, Erin go Bragh ! " 

As the first of these exiles was that of faith, that that faith 
might be disseminated throughout the earth ; and as the second 
emigration was that of the warrior, going forth full of hope — a 
hope that was never realized — so, the last emigration from Ire- 
land was the emigration of love. It was the tearing of loving 
hearts from all that they cherished, all that they loved in this 
world ; the injustice and the tyranny of the land possessors of 
Ireland ; the injustice of the wicked government of England, 
gloating over the work of the ''Crowbar Brigade;" the people 
taken from their homesteads and flung into the ditches to die 
like dogs ; no law protecting them ; no rights of their own to be 
asserted ; no rights, save the right to suffer ; to be evicted and 



474 



The Exiles of Erin. 



to die. Ah, who amongst us has ever seen the parting of the 
old man from his sons and daughters ; who amongst us has ever 
heard the heart-broken cry go forth when those loving hearts were 
separated ; who amongst us, that has seen and heard, can ever 
forget those things ! No ; the youth of Ireland, the bone and 
sinew, fled. Many aged men and women remained in the land, 
and sat down upon their family graves to weep, and to die with 
broken hearts. But one emotion, one glorious passion ruled 
the emigrant of faith of fourteen hundred years ago, the emi- 
grant warrior of two hundred years ago, and the emigrant of 
love of the present day ; one glorious feeling, one absorbing 
passion, and that was, their love for Ireland. Hear the lament 
of St. Columbkille, one of Ireland's greatest saints, greatest 
poets, and greatest sons, who banished himself, in penance, to 
the far-distant island of lona. He tells us that, when he wished 
to calm the sorrow of his heart, he generally sat upon the high 
rocks of the island, and turned his eyes to catch a glimpse of 
the faint outline of the shore of Ireland. Death," he exclaimed, 
in one of his poems — Death in faultless Ireland is better than 
life without end, in Albin." 

" Death, in faultless Ireland, is better than life without end, in Albin ; 
What joy to fly upon the white-crested sea, and watch the waves break upon the Irish 
shore ! 

What joy to row in my little boat, and land upon the whitening foam of the Irish 
shore ! 

Ah ! how my boat would fly if its prow were turned to my Irish oak-groves ; 

But the noble sea now carries me to Albin, the land of the raven. 

My foot is in my little boat, but my sad heart bleeds ; and there is a gray eye which 

ever turns to Erin. 
Never, in this sad life, shall I see Erin, or her sons and daughters again. 
From the high prow I look over the ocean ; great tears are in my gray eyes, as I turn 

to Erin ; where the song of the birds is so sweet ; where the monks sing like 

the birds ; where the young are so gentle, and the old so wise ; where the men 

are so noble to look at, and the women so fair to wed." 

"Young traveller," he says, to one of his disciples, a noble 
youth, returning to Ireland — 

" Young traveller, take my heart with thee, and my blessing ; carr}'' them to Com- 

ghaill of eternal light. 
Carry my heart to Ireland — seven times may she be blessed — my body to Albin. 
Carry my blessing across the sea ; carry it to the Irish. My heart is broken in my 

bosom. 

If death should come upon me suddenly, it will be because of my great love of the 
Gael." 



TJie Exiles of Erin. 



475 



One consolation vouchsafed to him was, that he had two 
visions from God. He foretold that, many hundred years after 
his death, his body should be carried back to Ireland, to rest 
forever in the soil that he loved. This prophecy he himself 
announced in these words : " They shall bury me first at lona ; 
but by the will of the living God it is in Down that I shall rest 
in my grave, with Patrick and Bridget the immaculate — three 
bodies in one grave." And so, in the tenth century, when the 
Danes swept over lona, the monks took St. Columbkille's ven- 
erated body, and brought it to Ireland, and laid it in the Cathe- 
dral in Downpatrick, with Patrick and Bridget ; and there, as 
the old poem tells us — 

" Three saints one grave do fill, 
Patrick, and Bridget, and Columbkille." 

The love he had for Ireland was a spirit common to all Irish 
saints. Whilst they were crowned with the highest dignities of 
the Church in foreign lands, still, as we have the record in the 
history of St. Aidan, the first Archbishop of Northumbria, the 
founder of the famous Lindisfarne, whenever they wished to 
enjoy themselves a little, they came together and celebrated in 
the Irish language, with sweetest verse, to the sound of the 
timbrel and the harp, the praises of their native land. 

Nor less was the love which the brave exiles of 1691 bore to 
Ireland. We see that, when the cry of battle came forth ; when, 
with the shock of arms, they met upon the battle-field, never 
was the stout heart of the Saxon enemy smitten with fear within 
him, until he heard, ringing forth in the Irish tongue, Re- 
member Limerick, and dash down the Sassenagh ! " And well 
they loved their native land — these noble chieftains and brave 
soldiers of Ireland. Their love is commemorated in the poet's 
verse : 

" The mess-tent is full, and the glasses are set, 
And the gallant Count Thomond is president yet ; 
The vet'ran arose, like an uplifted lance. 
Crying — ' Comrades, a health to the Monarch of France ! ' 
With bumpers and cheers they have done as he bade, 
For King Louis is loved by The Irish Brigade, 

" ' A health to King James,' and they bent as they quaffed ; 
' Here's to George the Elector,' and fiercely they laughed ; 
* Good luck to the girls we wooed long ago, 
Where Shannon, and Barrow, and Blackwater flow ; ' 



476 



TJie Exiles of Erin. 



' God prosper Old Ireland,' — you'd think them afraid, 
So pale grew the chiefs of The Irish Brigade. 

" ' But, surely, that light cannot come from our lamp ? 

And that noise — are they all getting drunk in the camp ? * 
' Hurrah ! boys, the morning of battle is come, 
And the generales beating on many a drum.* 
So they rush from the revel to join the parade ; 
For the van is the right of The Irish Brigade. 

" They fought as they revelled, fast, fiery, and true. 
And, though victors, they left on the field not a few ; 
And they, who survived, fought and drank as of yore. 
But the land of their heart's hope they never saw more ; 
For in far foreign fields, from Dunkirk to Belgrade, 
Lie the soldiers and chiefs of The Irish Brigade." 

Nor is the Irishman of to-day — whether a voluntary or an 
involuntary exile from the dear green island of the ocean — 
ashamed of the love of the warrior for Ireland. It is not, per- 
haps, the beauties of the land that we remember ; it is not, per- 
haps, the green hill-sides, crowned with the Irish oak, made so 
beautiful in their clothing of the Irish fern, that rise before our 
eyes, and excite the tenderest emotions of our souls; it was not 
the beauties of Avoca that captivated the poet when he sang — 

" Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene 
Her purest of crystal, and brightest of green ; 
' " 'Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or rill — 

Oh, no ! — it was something more exquisite still. 

" 'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom were near, 
Who made ev'r}^ dear scene of enchantment more dear ; 
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve. 
When we see them reflected from looks that we love." 

So, perhaps, it is not the material beauty of Ireland — the 
green hill-side, or the pastoral beauty of glade or of valley ; — 
it is not, perhaps, the running brook, the mill-pond, the green 
field, the mossgrown old abbey, around which we played in our 
youth — not so much these that command our love ; but it is the 
holy, tender associations of all that we first learned to love, 
that we first learned to venerate ; the pure-minded, holy, gentle, 
loving mother, the wise, strong, and considerate father; the 
tender friend upon whom we leaned, and whose friendship was 
to us the earliest joy of our life : the venerable priest, whose 



The Exiles of Erin. 



4;; 



smile we sought as we bowed our youthful heads for his bless- 
ing. These, and such as these, are the motives of our love for 
Ireland. And that love is as keen, as strong, in the heart of the 
Irishman, far away from his native land to-day, as it was in the 
heart of St. Columbkille ; as it was in the valor of the Irish Bri- 
gade man as he rose to toast his heroic motherland. Well is 
the emigrant of to-day, the Irish Exile, described and depicted 
in the beautiful verses which recall his leaving his native land : 

" Adieu ! — the snowy sail 
Swells her bosom to the gale, 
And our barque from Innisfail 

Bounds away. 
While we gaze upon thy shore, 
That we never shall see more, 
And the blinding tears flow o'er, 

We pray : 

" Mavourneen ! be thou long 
In peace the queen of song— 
In battle proud and strong 

As the sea ! 
Be saints thine off"spring still — 
True heroes guard each hill 
And harps by ev'ry rill 

Sound free ! 

'* Tho' round her Indian bowers, 
The hand of nature showers 
The brightest-blooming flowers 

Of our sphere ; 
Yet, not the richest rose 
In an alien clime that blows, 
Like the brier at home that grows, 

Is dear. 

" When I slumber in the gloom 
Of a nameless foreign tomb, 
By a distant ocean's boom, 

Innisfail ! 
Around thy em'rald shore, 
May the clasping sea adore. 
And each wave in thunder roar^ 
' All hail ! ' 

" And when the final sigh, 
Shall bear my soul on high, 
And on chainless wing I fly 

Thro' the blue. 



478 



The Exiles of Erin. 



Earth's latest thought shall be, 
As I soar above the sea — 
' Green Erin, dear, to thee — 
Adieu ! "' 

Yes : if there be one passion that has outlived every other in 
the heart of the true Irishman, it is the inborn love for Ireland, 
for Ireland's greatness, and for Ireland's glory. Our fathers 
loved it, and knew how to prize it, to hold it — the glory of the 
faith that has never been tarnished ; the glory of the national 
honor that has never bowed down to acknowledge itself a slave. 
And, my friends, the burden and the responsibility of that glory 
is yours and mine to-night. The glory of Ireland's priesthood ; 
the glory of St, Columba ; the glories of lona and of Lindis- 
farne weigh upon me with a tremendous responsibility, to be of 
all other men what the Irish priest and monk must be, because 
of that glorious history ; the glory of the battle that has been 
so long fighting and is not yet closed ; the glory of that faith 
that has been so long and so well defended and guarded ; the 
glory of that national virtue that has made Ireland's men the 
bravest and Ireland's women the purest in the word — that glory 
is your inheritance and your responsibility this night. I and 
you, men, feel as Irishmen, and as Catholics, that you and I to- 
night are bound to show the world what Irishmen and Catholics 
have been in the ages before us, and what they intend to be in 
the ages to come — a nation and a Church that has never allowed 
a stain to be fixed upon the national banner nor upon the na- 
tional altar — a nation and a Church who, in spite of its hard fate 
and its misfortunes, can still look the world in the face ; for on 
Ireland's virgin brow no stain of dishonor or of perfidy has ever 
been placed. In sobriety, in industry, in manly self-respect, in 
honest pride of everything that an honest man ought be proud 
of — in all these, and in respect for the laws of this mighty coun- 
try lie the secret of your honor and of your national power and 
purity. Mark my words ! Let Ireland in America be faithful, 
be Catholic, be practical, be temperate, be industrious, be obe- 
dient to the laws ; and the day will dawn, with the blessing of 
God, yet upon you and me, so that when returning to visit for a 
time the shores from which we came, we shall land upon the 
shores of a free and glorious and unfettered nation. 



THE CONFESSIONAL: ITS EFFECT 
ON SOCIETY. 



[Lecture delivered at St. Joseph's Church, Brooklyn, on Sunday, May 5th, 1S72.] 

EARLY BELOVED BRETHREN : Amongst the 
things that were prophesied concerning our Lord and 
Saviour, there was this said of Him : That He would be 
an object of wonder to men : " Vocahitttr admirabilisr 
" He shall be called," says the prophet, "the Wonderful." He 
came ; and, in signs, and miracles, and many glorious deeds, He 
excited the wonder of mankind ; but never so much as when 
they heard from His lips such words as these: "Thy sins are 
forgiven thee," — spoken to the sinner. They were astonished 
at His wisdom ; they were astonished at His miracles ; but it 
was only when He said to the paralytic man: "Thy sins are 
forgiven thee," and to the Magdalene, " Arise, go in peace ; all 
is forgiven thee," — it was only then that the Pharisees absolutely 
refused to believe. Their wonder carried them even into in- 
credulity ; and they said among themselves, and to each other : 
" How can this be ? " 

As it was with our Divine Lord, so it is Avith the action of 
His Holy Church with regard to sinners. The world beholds 
her as Christ, our Lord, established her — in all her spiritual 
loveliness and beauty — in majesty, in unity, in truthfulness, and 
in power. Men are obliged to acknowledge all the beautiful 
things that dwell in the Church. Some reluctantly, others Avith 
apparent joy, bear witness to the fair order of mercy and 
charity in her. And when they see her best and her holiest 
sitting down in the hospitals and in orphanages, attending 
the poor, or following the soldier to the battle-field, they fill the 
world with praise of this wonderful mercy which is so organized 
in the Catholic Church. When they see eight hundred of her 




48o 



The Confessional : Its 



bishops, meeting in council, and all hearing the word of 
one man, and before that one bowing down as before the 
voice of God — they bear willing testinriony to the wonderful 
unity of faith which is in the Church. When they contemplate 
her priesthood, consecrated to God, and devoted to the people, 
they give loud and cheerful testimony to the devotedness which 
exists in the Catholic Church. But there is one thing — ^just 
like the Pharisees with our Lord — there is one thing that they 
will not admit ; and they are, perpetually, in regard to that one 
thing, repeating the old word of the Pharisees : Who is this 
that says he' can remit sin ? " and How can this be ? " " Who 
is this man that even forgives, or pretends to forgive, sin ? " 

And so, over and over again, we meet those who say : We 
admire the strength of your faith ; we admire the piety of your 
worship ; we admire the wonderful energy of your organization ; 
we admire your ancient traditions ; but don't speak to us of 
confession ! " Whenever the confessional is abused, they listen 
to the abuse of it with greedy ears. No man is more popular 
than the man who pretends to unmask confession !" He is 

honest !" he is "sincere!" he is "acting up to his convic- 
tions ! " There must be something fearful, something terrible, 
in that assumption of power by which the Church pretends to 
deal with sinners, and to cleanse them from their sin. Yet, my 
friends, reflect ; certain it is, that the mission for which the 
Eternal Son of God came down from heaven to earth was to 
take away sin ; " that where sin abounded grace might abound 
still more." Certain it is, that it was for sinners He came, and 
for their sins He died. Now, the action of Christ upon sinners 
and upon sin, was either to the total and entire destruction of 
sin, or only to the remedying of sin. Which of these was it •* 
Did His sufferings and His death totally and entirely destroy 
sin? He might have done it. Did He put an end to sin? Alas, 
no ! It was not the design of His wisdom. With sorrowing 
voice. He, Himself, declared that, when He had died and gone 
to the place of His glory, sin would still remain. " It is neces- 
sary," He said, " that scandal should be." If, then, this death 
and suffering of our Lord, and the mission of Christ, our Lord, 
was not to the total destruction of sin, and the mechanical and 
entire expulsion of all evil from this world, nothing remains 
but to say that He came to remedy sin ; to deal with sin 



Effect on Society. 



wherever he found it ; to deal with it in each successive 
generation. And this is the truth ; for Christ, our Lord, 
knowing and foreknowing that sin should be, provided a last- 
ing remedy for the lasting evil. And, therefore, calling to Him 
His Apostles, He said : I am come, that where sin abounded 
grace might abound still more." Therefore did Christ suffer; 
that the body of sin might be broken and destroyed in each 
successive generation. "The Father sent Me," He says, ^' that 
where sin abounded grace might abound still more." " Again, I 
say unto you, that even as the Father sent Me, so do I send you." 
Then, breathing upon His Apostles, He said : Receive ye the 
Holy Ghost ; whose sins ye shall forgive they are forgiven 
them: and whose sins ye shall retain they are retained." That 
moment — -at the breathing of the Son of God — the power that 
was in Him was communicated to His Apostles, that, in His 
power, and in His strength, and in His grace, and in His action, 
they might absolve from sin, and cleanse the soul of sin. 

Behold, then, how Christ, our Lord, clearly and emphatically 
embodied His action in the Church, and gave to the Church to 
do unto the end of time what He came to do upon the earth, 
viz., to deal with sin and with sinners ; and to say to every weep- 
ing and contrite one, no matter how great the burden of his sin : 

Arise ; depart in peace ; thy sin is forgiven thee ! " Even 
those who deny to the Church the power of forgiving sin, admit 
that the Apostles did it. They cannot deny that the Apostles 
had it, without denying the very words of Christ : Whose sins 
ye shall forgive they are forgiven." And yet, while they admit 
that the Apostles had it, strange to say, they imagine that the 
mysterious power died with the Apostles. Now, let us take up 
this theory. Let us reflect for a moment upon this foolish 
imagination that the power to forgive sin died with the Apostles. 
The action of Christ, I repeat again — the mission of Christ — was 
to deal with sin and with sinners. He gave that power, un- 
doubtedly, to his Apostles ; and I assert that if that power 
died with John, the last of the twelve, the action and the mis- 
sion of Christ came to an end. It was absolutely necessary to 
acknowledge either that the power was transmitted from the 
Apostles to their successors in the priesthood, as they themselves 
had received it from Christ, or to confess that the action of the 
Son of God, our Redeemer, not being utterly destructive of sin,. 

31 



482 



TJie Confessional : Its 



but only remedial — that that action must have ceased entirely 
when the last of the Apostles died, and that there was an end 
of all hope of pardon for sinners. Can you imagine this ? Did 
He come only to redeem the generation that had crucified 
Him ? Did He come only to redeem and to provide a remedy 
for the few generations that lasted as long as one of the Apos- 
tles was upon the earth ? Oh, no ! But He declared that as 
the Redeemer from everlasting was His name at the beginning, 
so, until the end, He should be with His Church, in the fullness 
of His power — in the greatness of the outpouring of His grace. 
" 1 am with you," He says, all days, even to the consummation 
of the world. " And therefore, He is Jesus Christ, the anointed 
Saviour ! — the same Saviour to-day as eighteen hundred 
years ago, through his Church ; — yesterday, to-day, and the 
same for ever. That the Apostles had the power of transmit- 
ting all that they received from Christ to their successors, is 
evident from one simple fact that is not sufficiently meditated 
upon by those who deny it. Christ, our Lord, spoke to the 
original twelve. Judas was amongst them when He called 
them to be Apostles. Judas prevaricated ; betrayed his Master; 
fell from his place of glory, even as Lucifer fell from his high 
throne in Heaven ; and then there were only eleven left. What 
did they do ? They chose one man from out the seventy-two 
disciples — His name was Matthias — ^good and holy ; — and they 
took this man — having laid their hands upon him — into the 
number of the Twelve Apostles, and he became even as they 
were. Everything that they could do he received the power to 
do. From whom ? From Christ ? Christ was already ascended 
into Heaven. From whom, then ? From the Apostles them- 
selves. Think you, my brethren, that, if they had not the 
power of transmitting all that they had received from Christ, 
they would have chosen a man and made him an Apostle ? But 
we have this upon the authority of Scripture. What, there- 
fore, they were able to do for Matthias, they were able to 
do for all their successors in the priesthood and in the episco- 
pate. And so the glorious tradition was handed down the 
stream ; for all that began with Jesus Christ — that flowed from 
Him through Peter, James, John, and the others — flows to-day 
in the sacred channels of the priesthood. And that stream is a 
two-fold stream, viz., pure undiluted doctrine, as true as the 



Effect on Society. 



483 



\^xy Word of God, because it is the Word of God — never to be 
polluted by the least error ; and, side by side with that stream 
of doctrine, the waters of Divine grace ; the sacramental 
power to heal by the touch of sanctity ; by the application of 
the grace of Jesus Christ in the sacraments. These remained 
principally, as far as regards sinners, in the sacrament of bap- 
tism and in the sacrament of penance. 

It is clear, then, dearly beloved, that this was necessary in 
order that the mission and action of the Son of God, as Re- 
deemer of the world — falling upon sinners, touching them, and 
cleansing them — should continue in the Church. This was 
prophesied clearly by him vrho said : On that day there shall 
be a fountain open unto the House of David and unto the 
dwellers in Jerusalem ; unto the cleansing the sinner and the 
unclean." That sacramental fountain springs forth from the 
Church in the sacrament of penance. 

Now, before we pass to consider the action of this sacrament 
upon society, consider it, first, viewed by the Almighty God, and 
in the wonderful manifestation of the heart and the hand of 
Jesus Christ. When the Son of God came down from heaven 
to redeem the world. He came with three glorious attributes, 
which He was bound to preserve, even in the action of His 
redemption, because He was God. These were mercy, power, 
and justice. The justice of the Eternal Father demanded that 
His own divine Son, who, alone, could pay man's debt, should 
come down from heaven and pay that debt in His blood. The 
justice of the Son of God, in relation to His heavenly Faither, 
made Him come down from heaven and pay, in the shedding 
of that blood, the all-sufficient price for all the souls of man- 
kind. The justice of the Eternal Father demanded that, as He 
had been outraged in every attribute of His power and dignity 
by the man, Adam, so, by a man — a true man — that honor, and 
glory, and dignity should be restored to Him'; and the justice 
of the Eternal Word brought that uncreated God from heaven, 
that, becoming true man — the Son of Man — He might be able 
to pay, in that sacred humanity, and by the shedding of that 
blood, for the souls of mankind. Thus we see how the justice 
of God came forth for the world's redemption. Secondly, the 
mercy of God is seen ; for, O dearly beloved brethren, when 
we had abandoned the Almighty God, ungrateful for all that 



484 



TJic Confessional : Its 



He had conferred upon us, He might have left us a fallen and a 
God-forsaken race ; He might have turned away from the first 
sinner upon earth as He turned away from the first sinner in 
heaven, so as never to look with mercy upon his face again. 
But no ; God looked upon the fallen race with eyes of pity, 
with eyes of infinite compassion and of mercy ; and, on the first 
day of His anger, He remembered this pity and this mercy ; for, 
after having cursed Adam for his sin, and having laid His curse 
upon the earth in the work of Adam, then did He unfold the 
plan of his redemption ; and to the serpent He said : There- 
fore, the woman, and the woman's seed shall crush thy head. 
In this we behold the power of God. For, says St. Augustine, 
the power of God is measured in our regard by the greatest of 
His works. Now, the greatest work of God is the redemption 
of mankind ; and the greatest work it ever entered into the 
mind of God to conceive, or into the hand of God to execute, 
was, God made man in our Saviour, Christ. This was the great- 
est of all God's works. Compared with this creature — the Son 
of Mary ; for in His humanity He was a creature — a man ; com- 
pared with Him in the ineffable union of God and man, of two 
natures in one person ; everything else that God made, every 
other power that He ever showed or exercised, vanishes as if it 
was nothing ; and Christ, our Lord, God and man, looms forth, 
filling heaven and earth, as the greatest of all God's works. So, 
in like manner, in the dealings of Christ our Lord with sinners. 
He was careful to preserve the same three attributes of His 
divinity. His power He showed forth in the remission of their 
sins ; His mercy He shoAved forth in turning to them and spurn- 
ing them not from Him ; His justice He showed forth, for never 
did He absolve a sinner from his sin without cautioning that 
sinner, lest he might return to that sin again, and something 
far more terrible should fall upon him. 

And now, when we pass from the action of Christ to His 
Church, what do we find? We find, dearly beloved brethren, 
in all the works of God in His Church, in all her sacraments, a 
union of the same attributes. But nowhere, in no sacrament, 
in no action of God, do we find power and mercy so magnifi- 
cently shown forth, and so wonderfully blended into one act, as 
in the act by which the sinner is saved, and absolved from his 
sin. First of all, consider the power of God. Almighty God 



Effect on Society. 



485 



showed His omnipotence, first of all, in the creation. He spoke 
over the darkness and the void of space, and He said, Let 
there be light ;" and light was made in an instant. The sun 
shone forth in the heavens, and the moon caught up her re- 
flected glory from him. The stars sprang forth like clustering 
gems in the firmament newly created, and the whole world was 
flooded with the blessed light which sprang into existence at 
the word of God. Then followed the same imperative, omnipo- 
tent command — the same fiat ; and at the sound of the ex- 
pression of God's will, life came out of death, as light out of 
darkness ; beauty out of chaos ; order out of disorder ; and all 
the series of worlds took up their position in their respective 
places in creation, and began that hymn of harmony and praise 
which has resounded before Him for six thousand years. How 
great, how wonderful is the w^ord that God spoke, and by which 
He could effect such great things ! Yet St. Augustine tells us 
that the words by which the priest says to the sinner, I ab- 
solve thee in the name' of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost," 
and which, at their sound, cleanse that sinner's soul from all his 
sins ; bring him forth from out the grave ; bring him forth from 
out the darkness of his sin, into the light of God's grace; from 
defilement into purity ; from death into life ; that that word is 
simply, infinitely more powerful than the word — the fiat — by 
which Almighty God created the world. Infinitely more power- 
ful ; and why? Because, when God, in the beginning of crea- 
tion, stood, as it were, upon the threshold of heaven, and from 
heaven's brightness sent forth the word, there was nothing in 
that void that lay before God, nothing in that chaotic space 
over which His word was sped, that could resist the action of 
His w^ord. There was nothing there. He made all things out 
of nothing ; but the original nothingness, therefore, could not 
resist the action of God. Nor is there in heaven, nor upon the 
earth, nor in hell, anything that can resist the action of God, 
except one thing ; and that one thing is the obstinate will, and 
the perverse heart of the sinner. The will of man alone can say 
to the Almighty God, "Omnipotence, Tdefy thee." And why? 
It is not that God could not, if He so willed it, annihilate that 
will ; but He does not will it. It is because the Almighty God, 
by an eternal law, respects that freedom of man's will, so that 
if that will resist Him freely, Omnipotence itself is powerless 



486 



The Confessional : Its 



before that will. Such being the decree of the law of the will 
of God, the heart of man alone, the will of man alone, can offer 
such an obstacle to the Almighty God's action. Even in His 
omnipotent power, God must yield, because He cannot gain a 
victory without destroying that freedom which He has sworn, 
by an eternal law, to respect. 

Now, Avhen a man commits sin, falls from one sin into an- 
other, when he becomes a drunkard, or an impure man, or a 
blasphemer, or, in any other way, hands over his soul to the 
devil, then his will is opposed to God — his heart turned against 
God. And how can the Almighty God convert that man whose 
will is opposed to Him, and the freedom of whose will He is 
bound to respect ? Here comes in the wonderful action of God's 
wisdom united to His omnipotence. He will not say to that 
sinner, You must be converted;" He will not say it, because, 
if He said it, that conversion would not be free, would not be 
worthy of man, nor could it be deserving of the favor and ac- 
ceptance of Almighty God. The freedom that is in God 
essentially He has reflected on man, and he that is saved must 
be saved by a free co-operation with God's grace ; and he that 
is damned, goes down to hell of his own free-will. Therefore, 
the Lord says, Thy perdition is from thyself, O Israel!" Here 
is the difficulty, then, that the mind of God alone, the wisdom 
of God alone, united to His omnipotence, can solve. Here is 
a man whose will is opposed to God. As long as that will is 
opposed to God, Almighty God can never have mercy on that 
.man. And yet God cannot, in virtue of His own eternal laws, 
force that will to relinquish its opposition to Him. Therefore, 
by His graces, by His wonderful attractive powers, He awakens 
in that sinner's soul the first feelings of love. He puts before 
the sinner's eyes, first, the hideous, yet true, lineaments of sin. 
He excites in the sinner's heart the first feelings of remorse 
and of loneliness at being separated from God. He puts into 
the sinner's cup of pleasure the little drop that embitters it 
somewhat to his own spiritual taste ; and He reminds him how 
sweet it was to have loved the Lord his God. He thunders in 
that sinner's ears the announcement of His judgments ; He 
shakes that sinner's soul with the first tremblings of that holy 
fear which is the beginning of wisdom. With a merciful hand 
He opens the vision of hell, and shows to that sinner's startled 



Effect on Society. 



487 



glance theMowest abode of the everlasting dwelling-place of the 
enemies of God. And thus, by a thousand powerful graces, 
sweetly, yet strongly, does He bring that sinner's will around, 
until, at length, the impediment is removed, and the man comes 
freely, not forced, but drawn and attracted — not coerced at all, 
yet coming in spite of himself — in spite of himself, yet freely ; 
and (mystery of the omnipotence of divine grace, and of the 
wonderful respect of God's omnipotence for the freedom of 
man), he comes and surrenders himself to God. Then, and only 
then, can the Almighty God absolve him from his sin. Consider 
how great is the obstacle that has to be removed from that sin- 
ner's soul before the omnipotent God can free him from his sin ! 
There is there a will opposed to God. If all the angels in 
heaven, if all the powers in heaven and upon earth strained 
themselves to change that will, their action would be simply im- 
potence before it ; so tremendous is the law that preserves the 
perfect freedom of man's will for good or for evil. 

We can again reflect upon the power of God, as shown in His 
punishment of sin ; for this is the second great feature of His 
omnipotence, when it comes out in all the rigors of His justice. 
Oh, how terrible is this consideration, that, whilst we are here, 
peacefully assembled around this holy altar, there is, somewhere 
or other in the creation of God, the vast, the terrible, prison of 
hell, with its millions on millions of unhappy inmates, and its 
flames, roaring, sweeping, devouring, and yet not consuming ; 
that, somewhere or other, the air is filled with the cry — the 
spiritual cry — of the imprisoned souls and reprobate angels of 
God, dashing in all their wild and impotent rage against those 
bars that shall never permit them to go forth ; that there is en- 
kindled, by the breath of an angry God, a fire that shall never 
be extinguished ; and there, for all eternity, the hand of God, 
in all its omnipotence, will fall with all the weight of its unsatis- 
fied vengeance of fire ! Terrible, terrible it is to think upon the 
despair that, looking forward to an endless eternity, sees no ray 
of hope, no moment of mitigation of the terrible punishments of 
the soul and of the body there ! Yet, if you reflect upon it, 
what is more natural than that the sinner, dying in his sins, 
should go down to hell ? Where can he go ? He cannot go to 
heaven with all his sins upon him. He died the enemy of God. 
He died with his free will turned away from God. He died 



488 The Confessional : Its 

with the hatred of God in his heart, because of the presence of 
sin. Is this the man you would introduce into the Divine 
presence ? Is it on those hps, accustomed to blasphemy, that you 
would place the ringing canticle of praise? He has no idea of 
the joys of heaven, for they are spiritual ; and this man's only 
idea or notion of delight was in gross, carnal sensuality. He 
has no idea of the Lord of heaven ; for, all his lifetime, he spoke 
the language of hell — cursing and blaspheming. He has no idea 
of the God of heaven ; for, all his lifetime, he served the demon 
of his own passions and his own evil inclinations. There is 
nothing in him attuned with heaven. It would be violence 
offered to him to send him to heaven, and to make him enter 
into the joys of God. No ; it is natural that he should go 
down into the cess-pool of hell ; either his sin must leave him, 
or else that sin, abiding upon his soul, must leave him under 
the brand of God's vengeance for ever. 

What is more natural, my friends, than the idea of the water 
flowing from the little fountain on the mountain's summit — flow- 
ing onward in its little bed, falling now over one rock and then 
over another, receiving its various tributaries as it flows along, 
and growing in size until, at length, it becomes a great river in 
the lower plains ? Falling from one cascade into another, it finds 
the deep valley in the open country, and there sweeps into the 
mighty river, spanned by great bridges, passing through great 
towns, supporting upon its bosom mighty ships of war ; until at 
length, turbulent, and with a thousand impurities, it falls rapidly 
into the deep, wild ocean. This is all natural. That a man 
should stand upon that river's side and say : 

" Flow on, thou shining river !" 

is natural. But that a man should be able to stand in the mid- 
tide of that mighty stream, and with his hands to push it back 
against its course ; to make it flow up through the upper lands, 
and up to the higher levels ; to make it flow upwards against the 
cataract ; to bring it up, purifying it as he goes, until, at length, 
from the turbulent, impure, and muddy stream, he brings it back 
again over the rocks, until, pure as crystal, it arrives at its 
source, and empties into that source — this would be a wonder- 
ful achievement ! This would be power ! And what this would 
be is precisely what the omnipotence of God does here in the 



Effect 071 Society, 



489 



confessional, as compared with His action in permitting the 
damned to go down into hell. That God should permit the 
sinner to go down into hell, and that He should visit him there 
with His everlasting punishment, is natural and necessary, and 
shows the power God possesses, and need excite no astonish- 
ment. But that the Almighty God should stop the sinner in 
his mad career of sin ; that He should make him stand whilst 
he was hurrying on through every channel of impurity, and 
pride, and avarice, and dishonesty, gathering every element of 
corruption and defilement as he went along; swelling forth in the 
tide of his iniquity as he was nearing the great ocean of hell — 
that God should stop him, send him back again into the halls of 
memory, and there, through the upward stream of his life, 
cleansa him from his impurity and sin as he went along, until, at 
length, he brought him back to the pure, limpid fountain-head 
of his baptismal innocence — this is the wonder. Here shines 
the omnipotence of God. And this is precisely the act which 
He does when He takes the sinner and cleanses him from his 
sin in the confessional ! 

But how Avonderfully are His love and mercy blended in this 
action of Christ. We knpw that the subject — the very subject 
of His omnipotence — is the sinner — a man who has violated, 
perhaps, the most essential and important of God's laws ; a 
man who may have the blood of the innocent on his red-stained 
hand ; a man from whose soul every vestige of divine remem- 
brance and of spiritual aspiration may have departed, because 
of his impurity ; a man who may have committed sins worse 
even than those that brought the deluge of fire from Heaven on 
the cities of Pentapolis ; a man who may have lived only to de- 
vote himself to every most wicked and diabolical purpose, until 
he has frittered into pieces and broken every one of God's holy 
laws and commands — that man comes and stands before this 
enraged and offended God — stands before this God who has a 
hell prepared for him — stands before this God whose goodness 
he has despised — wiiose grace he has trampled upon — whose 
blood he has wasted away — whose every attribute he has out- 
raged — and he asks that God to deal with him ! He comes as a 
criminal, and to that God he says : " Lord ! here I am ! There is 
not in nether hell one so bad as I. There is no record, in the 
annals of Thy dealings with sinners, of any sinner so terrible as I 



490 



The Confessional : Its 



have been. And now, I wish to enter with Thee into judgment ! '* 
If that man had violated the laws of this world, as he has violated 
the laws of God ; if that man had insulted human society as he has 
insulted the Lord Jesus Christ ; if that man's iniquities were only 
taken cognizance of by an earthly tribunal, see how they would 
deal with him ! He would be dragged from his house, perhaps in 
the noonday, by the rough officers of justice; he would be 
taken publicly through the streets of the city, every eye look- 
ing at him curiously, every hand pointing at him as the great 
criminal — the man who committed such a murder — the man 
who did such and such wicked things. He would be flung into 
a dark dungeon, in a prison, and, after days and days of waiting 
and anxiety, he would be brought again into the open court, 
and the whole world called on to hear the testimony of his 
crime, and to behold his shame. Oh, no feeling of his would 
be spared ! He would not be allowed to shrink into a corner 
of that court, there to hide his guilty head. No, but he must 
stand forth and confront the witnesses who depose against him, 
and quietly and calmly swear away his life's blood. He must 
be exposed to the heartless jeers and inquiring gaze of the 
world, that is so unsympathizing. He may be, perhaps, on his 
transit from the court-house to the prison, exposed to the groans 
and the hisses of the multitude. When he is found guilty, and 
his crime is brought home to him, then comes the awful moment. 
A judge, in solemn dignity, tells him that his life is forfeit, and 
that he must die a death of public infamy and ignominy to ex- 
piate his crime. Thus does the world deal with its criminals. 
But if this criminal of whom I speak, appear before the Son of 
God, and say : Saviour, Judge ; let us enter into judgment ! " 
Christ takes him by the hand, and He warns off the crowd. 
Christ takes him and brings him into a secret tribunal ; calls no 
witnesses against him ; allows no finger of shame to be pointed 
at him ; listens to what he has to say against himself; He says : 
" Speak, my son, and speak freely ! " He speaks his deeds of 
shame, it is true, in the ears of a man. That man is there as 
the representative of the Lord Jesus Christ, whose mercy he is 
about to administer. He hears the whispered word. It must 
not be heard even by the angel of mercy who is there, but only 
by the sinner and the priest of Jesus Christ. That word falls 
upon the priest's ear ; for a moment it enters into his mind. 



Effect on Society. 



491 



and in a moment it passes away. Just as a little child, on a calm 
summer evening, might take a pebble and fling it into the bosom 
of a deep, still, placid lake ; for an instant there is a ripple on the 
face of the water ; there is a little circlet of waves ; presently these 
die away, the waters close, and the pebble is lost forever. No hu- 
man eye shall ever see it again. So, for an instant, the sound of the 
sinner's voice makes but a ripple upon the ear of the priest, thrills 
for an instant on the delicate tympanum, and passes from that 
into the unfathomable ocean of the merciful heart of Jesus Christ. 
The waters of Christ's mercy close over it ; and that sin is gone — 
gone forever. Not eye of angel, not eye of man, nor eye of God 
at the hour of judgment, shall ever look upon it again ; for 
the blood of Jesus Christ has fallen upon it and washed it 
away. How little it costs the priest to say, "I absolve thee 
in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost," — these 
three words! How little it costs the sinner! Scarcely a 
humiliation ! If, indeed, a man had to proclaim his confession, 
and make it publicly ; if a man had to make it before the assem- 
bly of the faithful ; if a man had to make it on a Sunday morn- 
ing, before all the people, as they were crowding in to Mass ; even 
then, if such a confession would obtain pardon for me, great God, 
would it not be a great gift to be able to purchase such a grace 
even at such a cost — even at the ruin of my character — even with 
all the ignominy and contumely that I would sustain at my public 
confession ! It would be cheap, considering what I got in return. 
If the law of Almighty God said to the sinner: "I will bring 
thee to the stake — and only at the last moment, when the last 
drop of life's blood is coming from that broken heart — then, and 
only then, will I absolve thee ! " — would it not be cheaply pur- 
chased — this pardon of God, this grace of God, this eternity of 
God's joy in heaven — even by the rendering of the last drop 
of our blood ! But no ! Full of love, full of commiseration, 
Christ, our Lord, comes to us with mercy, sparing every feeling 
of the sinner, making every difficult thing smooth, trying to 
anticipate, by the sweetness of His mercy, all the humiliation, 
and all the pain ; shrouding all under that wonderful veil of 
secrecy which has never for an instant been rent since the 
Church was first founded ; and, in the end, it is the only 
tribunal where, when a man is found guilty, the only sentence 
pronounced on him is one of acquittal. In other tribunals, 



492 



The Confessio7ial : Its 



when a man is found guilty, he receives his punishment. In 
the tribunal of penitence, all a man has to say is : " Of these am 
I guilty before my God ; oh, my God, with sorrow I confess 
them ! " The only sentence is : You are acquitted ! go in 
peace ! " No vestige of sin — no stain of your iniquity is upon 
you ! The sin is gone, and the terrible curse that was upon 
your soul is changed into a blessing! The angel-guardian 
that accompanied the sinner to the door of the confessional 
awaits without, even as the Magdalene waited beside the ,tomb, 
whilst the body of our Lord lay there. For, even as the angels, 
when the midnight hour of the resurrection came, beheld a glorious 
figure rise from that tomb, and flung out their hearts and voices 
in adoration of the risen Saviour, from whom every wound 
and every deformity had disappeared ; so the angel-guardian^ 
waiting prayerfully, sorrowfully, outside the confessional, turns, 
for an instant, when that door opens, and rejoices when he be- 
holds the man who went in, covered with sin, come forth as pure 
as that angel himself. The man who went in loaded with 
crimes comes forth with the blessing of the Eternal God, shining 
with the characters of immortal light, upon his forehead ; the 
man who went in dead and buried in his sin, has heard, within 
that secret tribunal, the voice which said : Lazarus, come 
forth ! " and he has risen and come forth ; and the angel-guardian 
is astonished at the change and the brightness on him. Is it 
not so ? Was there not a sad angel following, with reluctant 
and distant steps, the woman that flaunted through the streets 
of Jerusalem — the Magdalene, with her flowing robes, and her 
outstretched neck of pride — was there not an angel that knew 
her in the day of her innocence, and was now stricken with 
misery to behold so much shame ? Oh, but when that angel 
saw her as she rose from the feet of Jesus Christ, that she had 
washed with her tears — oh, when that angel saw her as she 
rose, with the words of the Lord upon her head — ''Oh, woman, 
go in peace ; thou hast loved much, and all is forgiven thee ! " — 
then, admiring the glory of the Magdalene's zeal, he struck the 
key-note of that voice that re-echoed in the heavens, until the 
vaults of heaven were shaken again, when the nine choirs of 
angels gave glory to God over the one sinner that did penance ! 
So it is with us. W.e have seen the love, the mercy, the 
power that is exercised towards us. 



Effect on Society. 



493 



And now, dearly beloved brethren, let us consider the action 
of this sacrament upon society. 

The Catholic Church received from Christ, our Lord, a two- 
fold mission. That mission the world is unwilling to recognize ; 
but that mission it is the destiny of the Church of God to fulfill 
until the end of time. That mission has in it a two fold char- 
acter. To sinners, to those who are in darkness, it brings the 
light ; to those who are dead in the corruption of sin it brings 
the life of Divine grace. This two fold mission is perfectly 
clear from the words of Christ to his Apostles : You are the 
light of the earth," He said. Vos estis lux mundi : You 
are the light of the world." " And you are the salt of the 
earth." The light to illumine the world's darkness ; the salt to 
heal and purify the world's corruption. The first of these mis- 
sions the Church of God fulfills in her teaching ; for the 
Psalmist said, with truth, "The declaration of Thy Word, oh 
God, brings light and intelligence to Thy little children !" And, 
as it is the Church's destiny to be, until the end of time, the 
light of the world, so the light which is to come from her 
must be the very light of God. Therefore, the word of truth, 
that creates that light, can never die away from the Church's 
lips ; nor, coming from those lips, can it ever be polluted by the 
slightest iota or admixture of error. She has the power given 
to her by our Lord, not only to illumine men in their dark- 
ness, but to heal them in their corruption. What is the corrup- 
tion of the sinner ? What is that corruption, that infirmity, 
that defilement to which Christ alluded when He said to His 
Apostles : " Ye are the salt of the earth," ye must be put upon 
the sore places of the world ; ye must be put upon the fester- 
ing wounds of the world. What are these sore places — 
these festering wounds ? They are the sores and wounds of sin 
in the soul. Sin is the sore spot of the soul. Sin is the awful 
ulcer of society. Sin, that abounds everywhere. For it abounds 
in every circle : in the commercial circles, making men untrust- 
worthy and dishonest ; in the domestic circle, making servants 
pilfer and steal ; making masters and mistresses exacting and 
unjust ; making children disobedient ; making parents forgetful 
of their duties to their children ; making the young man impure, 
and the married man unfaithful. All these things, all these evils 
■ — that are teeming around us — that meet us wherever we turn — 



494 



The Confessional : Its 



that we cannot avoid seeing and hearing, be we ever so fastidi- 
ous—they come under the very touch of our hand, and they dis- 
gust us with this Hfe of ours. Then we are fain to cry out with 
the Psalmist, O God, woe is me, because my pilgrimage here 
is prolonged ! " All these things are the corruptions of man- 
kind ; and the power that the Church received when she was 
called the salt of the earth," is to purge away all this, to re- 
medy all these evils, heal all these wounds, and sweeten all that 
bitterness and all that corruption of society. All this she does 
through the sacrament of penance — or through the confessional. 
There is she truly the saviour of society, and the world cannot 
do without her. How significant it is that, when Germany gave 
up the faith and the sacraments three hundred years ago, such 
was the immorality, such was the impurity that filled the com- 
munity at once, that actually a German city was obliged to peti- 
tion to have the confessional, or the sacrament of penance restored. 
All classes of society said : The responsibility is gone — the 
yoke is removed from us — we need no longer betake ourselves 
to the task of looking up our sins and weeping over them, and 
wailing over them, and taking measures of avoiding them, or 
incurring the pain and humiliation of confessing them." All 
this is gone ; and then, like the Hebrews of old, they rose up, 
joined hands, and danced round the new-found idol — the golden 
calf of their own sensuality and wickedness. "You are the salt 
of the earth," He said to them. Oh, if the Catholic Church 
was not on this earth ! If she were not here with her sacraments to 
create purity and to preserve it ; to create honesty and to enforce 
it ; to bring home the full and entire responsibility of every man, 
and to him personally — to bring home to every soul — the deform- 
ity of sin, the necessity of repenting individually for each and every 
sin ; to shake every soul in her sacrament of penance, from the 
lethargy of sin — oh, I protest, my fl"iends, I believe, if the Catho- 
lic Church were not here, operating upon her millions throughout 
the world, to do this, that long before this time, the chariot of 
society, rolling down the steep hill of human infirmity, would 
have precipitated the whole world into destruction and death. 

How is it that Protestant employers and masters are so anx- 
ious to have Catholic servants, Catholic help," Catholic appren- 
tices, Catholic people about them? How is it? Because they 
are shrewd enough to know that the confessional which they 



Effect on Society. 



495 



despise creates honesty — enforces it. There is no stronger way 
to enforce honesty than to get a man to believe that he cannot 
live without Jesus Christ — and that Jesus Christ is on the altar 
w^aiting for him, to tell him that between him and the Saviour 
stands a barrier that he must overcome, if he becomes dishonest, 
and that he cannot do without restoring to the last farthing 
v/hatever he has unjustly got ; to tell him that if he becomes a 
thief — public or private — that the accumulation of his thievery 
will builci up an impenetrable wall, between him and God ; and 
that, until that wall is pulled to pieces by restitution, he never 
can approach the sacraments here nor the glory of God here- 
after. An English Protestant clergyman came to me once, when 
I was on the English mission, and he said to me: ''Father, I 
come to complain of one of my man-servants." I said to him, 
''Well, sir, what on earth have I to do with your servants ?" 
"Oh," he said, "all my servants, both men and women, are 
Catholics ; and I would not think of employing anybody else." 
" What complaint," I said, " have you to make then of any of 
them? " " Well," he said, " I insist on their going to confession 
once a month ; and this man has not been there in the last two 
months. So I came here to insist on his going." " Well, but 
you do not believe in it." " No," he said, " I know I do not be- 
lieve in it ; but so long as my Catholic people do go, they will 
not steal from me ; and so long as they do not go to confessic^ 
and communion, they will not receive any wages from me ! " 
What is the agency that touches the depravity of the world and 
creates purity and honesty? I answer, it is the confessional. 
Remember that the idea of purity as a virtue, as it lies in the 
mind of Christ and in the mind of His Church, is not merely an 
external decorum ; not merely the avoiding of gross, actual sins ; 
but that it begins in the very thoughts in the inner chambers of 
the soul of man ; that it will not allow any impure or defiling 
imaginations to rest there for a single instant ; that it will not 
allow as much even as an impure thought to be sanctioned for 
one second by the will ; and out of that interior purity of 
soul, of thought, of imagination, springs the external virtue 
of chastity ; for, without that interior purity, rendering the soul 
itself as candid, as white, as innocent as was the soul of Mary 
on the day of her assumption — without that, all external chastity 
would be as a dead body without its soul. Now, the only way 



496 



The Confessional : Its 



to create that interior purity — to create the essence of the virtue, 
to make the soul of the virtue, the hfe of the virtue — the only 
way is to establish firmly in the soul and in the mind of man, 
the idea of his responsibility to God for ever}- thought of his 
mind, as Avell as for every action and word of his life ; to bring 
him face to face with Christ ; to make him not only know but 
feel that He whom he serves, looks with a penetrating and scrutin- 
izing gaze into the very inner chambers of the soul. How does 
the Church do this? By bringing that young man to confession ; 
b\- putting him face to face with Jesus Christ ; scrutinizing and 
examining his thoughts, his words, and actions ; by making him 
search, by the light of memor}', ever}' cranny of his soul, and of 
his imagination ; by making him feel that even although his lips 
may never have breathed an obscene word, even though this 
man may never have committed an impure action, he might still 
be as impure and as bad as the worst of men. This is only done 
by that action of the Church, which not only teaches a man to 
be pure, but drags him, as it were, with holy violence, and puts 
him into the presence of the God of purity; and says, Come, 
open your heart, my son, and let the light of Jesus Christ into 
your soul I " 

Thus it is. that from the confessional spring those virtues by 
which man acts upon his fellow-man. The index virtue is 
purity ; and the next virtue, in relation to our fellow-man, is 
honesty. The third virtue is charity. And behold how the 
confessional acts here. If a man speaks badly of his neighbor, 
if he ruins that neighbor's character or reputation, if he gets 
that neighbor thrown out of some lucrative employment .by his 
whisperings, or his tales — he goes to confession ; he says, I am 
sorr}' for the sin I have committed ; and he finds, perhaps, to 
his astonishment, that the priest will say to him, " There is 
another difficulty ; " until he makes good that man's character, 
there is no absolution for him ; until he has swallowed the lie 
he has told, there is no pardon for him ; until he has restored 
to his neighbor the fair name and fame of which, by his whisper- 
ing, and enmity, and injustice, he had robbed him, there is no 
pardon for him. What greater, what stronger motive could 
there be to make a man guard his words, to preser\^e him from 
detraction, to make him measure well his words before he in- 
flicts an injury on his neighbor ; when he knows if he gives way 



Effect on Society. 



497 



to this mean jealousy or enmity, if he says these things or pub- 
lishes them, even though men may forget it, God will not for- 
get it in the interests of his neighbor. To communion," this 
man must say, I cannot go ; nor cross the threshold of the 
kingdom of heaven, until I have gone out and swallowed this 
lie that I have told." 

And so, pursue our relations to each other, to society, and to 
those around us, into every detail of social life, and you there 
will find the Church following you, guiding your footsteps by 
her light, preserving your souls from sin, or touching them with 
a healing hand if you have fallen into sin. It is, therefore, no 
wonder at all, my friends, that every heresy, almost, that ever 
sprang up in the Church, assailed the confessional first. Nearly 
all heresies united in this — at least many of them — offering a 
bribe to poor human nature. And the bribe was, You need 
not go any more to confession." When Luther started his 
Protestantism the world was shocked ; for as soon as the people 
heard, " Oh, it is all folly to go to confession ! You need not 
go any more ! there is no necessity ! " — he abolished the obliga- 
tion of making restitution ; he abolished the form of the con- 
fessional, that has restrained so many souls and kept them within 
settled, salutary barriers ; he abolished all that, and left men to 
their own devices ; and he left the world, the Protestant world, 
as if Christ, our Lord, had never come upon earth, never touched 
our humanity; because he left it without the remedies by which 
sin could be avoided, and evaded ; and he left the accumulated 
sins of man, from his childhood to his old age, like a mountain 
upon him, to bear them — and to carry them before the judgment- 
seat of Christ. Ah, cruel and cruel, indeed, was the heart of 
him who devised this infernal scheme ! Oh, cruel Luther ! Oh, 
Luther, when thou didst say to Jesus Christ and to His Church, 

Let no more pardon and no more grace come from you ! Let 
men live without you ! " — terrible was that denial of the greatest 
of earth's comforts, as well as most substantial of heaven's bene- 
fits I For what greater comfort can a man have — if there be any 
hidden sin weighing upon his spirit, breaking his heart, loading 
him with a burden w^hich he cannot bear alone — what is the 
natural instinct of that man ? To find a friend, to unbosom 
himself to that friend, to lighten his own burthen by sharing it 
with another. Even if that friend has no power to relieve him, 

32 



498 



The Co7ifessio7ial : Its 



even if he have nothing to give him but a word of sympathy or 
consolation — merely to tell, merely to open the heart, is such 
relief — such relief as can only be felt by those who, in order to 
gain it, might else speak their sin before the world. But the 
great drawback is, " where shall we find this friend I '* We 
must demand of him sympathy ; we must demand of him 
patience : but, above all, what we rarely find, we must demand 
of him to keep whatever we tell him a secret. How rarely do 
you find a friend with whom you can entrust a secret? Tell a 
man a thing that you would not Avish the world to know, and 
the old proverb is that you are in that man's power for the rest 
of your life. Why? Because if he tells that about you, you 
are ruined I And he may ruin you, because you put yourself in 
his power. But who ever thought this of a priest in the con- 
fessional ? Did it ever come across a Catholic's mind? I verily 
believe it never came, even as a temptation from hell to tempt 
us against telling one's sins. Well you know that that man has 
no power even to remember ; well you know that you can meet 
that man an hour afterward, and you can put your hand into 
his, as if you had never bent your knee to him ; that he will 
never be so infamous a blasphemer as to remember that which 
the Almighty God in heaven has forgotten ! 

Thus it is that the voice in the confessional acts on society. 
If the whole world Avere Catholic — and I Avill conclude Avith this 
sentence — if the Avhole Avorld Avere Catholic, and that all men 
consented to go regularly to the sacraments, and to approach 
Avorthily to the sacrament of penance, this alone Avould put an 
end to all sin. There Avould be no more sin. There Avould be 
no more heart-breaking, no more tears, no more terrific records 
of robberies and murders, no more Avomen hardening their hearts 
and making them more ferocious than the tigress Avhen she 
devours and tears her young ; no more of that cautious, cold, 
calculating dishonesty — men casting their Aviles about each other 
like a spider's Aveb, to entrap each other ; no miser>^ in this 
Avorld, all Avould be happiness, if men would only open their 
festering souls and let in the salt of the pOAver and of the grace 
of the Lord Jesus Christ I 

Thus do Ave behold the action of the confessional on society. 
Oh, my friends, let us pray that God may enlighten those Avho, 
Avithout the pale of the Catholic Church, go on from day to day, 



Effect on Society. 



499 



from year to year, adding sin to sin, and bearing the accumu- 
lated burden of their sins before the eternal judgment-seat of 
Jesus Christ. 

Whilst we pray for them, oh, let us, like good men and true, 
enter into those privileges and graces which we enjoy, cleansing 
our souls from sin, preserving them in their purity by the fre- 
quent application of grace, which destroys those sins at the 
beginning, and, by frequenting confession and holy communion, 
build up our souls upon the grace of graces, and strength of 
strengths, until we are gathered, in the fullness of the years of 
our manhood, into the joy of our Lord Jesus Christ. 



THE BLESSED EUCHARIST. 



[Pleached in St. Michael's Church, New York, on Sunday morning, June 2d, 
1872.] 

EARLY BELOVED BRETHREN: in this wonderful 
age of ours, there is nothing that creates in the think- 
ing mind so much astonishment and wonder as the 
fact that the Catholic Church stands before the world 
in all the grandeur of her truthfulness, and that the intellect of 
this age of ours seems incapable of apprehending her claims, or 
of acknowledging her grandeur. Men in every walk of life are 
in pursuit of the true and the beautiful. The poet seeks it in 
his verse, the philosopher in his speculations, the statesman in 
his legislation, the artist in the exhibition of his art. And, 
whilst all men profess thus to pursue the true and the beautiful, 
they wilfully shut their eyes against that which is the truest and 
most beautiful of all things upon the earth — the Holy Catholic 
Church of Jesus Christ. I don't know whether there be any 
Protestants amongst you here to-day ; I believe there are not. 
But whether they be here, or whether they be absent, I weep, 
in my heart aftid soul, over their blindness and their folly, that 
they cannot recognize the only religion which is logical, because 
it is true ; the only Church which can afford to stand before the 
whole world, and bear the shock of every mind, and the criticism 
of every intellect, because she comes from God. Now, amid the 
many features of divine beauty and grandeur and harmony that 
the Almighty God has set upon the face of the Catholic Church, 
the first and the greatest of her mysteries, the greatest of her 
beauties, both intellectual and spiritual, is the awful presence of 
Jesus Christ, who makes Himself, really and truly, here, an 




The Blessed Eucharist. 



501 



abiding and present God in the Blessed Eucharist. I have 
chosen this presence as the subject and theme of my observa- 
tions to you to-day, because we are yet celebrating (within the 
octave), the festival of Corpus Christi. We are yet in spirit, with 
our holy mother, the Church, at the foot of the altar, adoring in 
an especial manner Him who is here present at all times ; and 
rejoicing, with a peculiar joy, for that grace, surpassing all graces, 
which the Almighty God has given to His Church, in the abiding 
presence of Jesus Christ amongst us. 

Most of you, I dare say, know that what I propose to you 
to-day is to consider that presence as the fulfillment of the de- 
signs of God, and the fulfillment of all the wants of man. If I 
can show you what these designs are, and what these wants are, 
and if I can sufficiently indicate to you that they are fulfilled 
only in the Blessed Eucharist — then, my brethren, I conclude, 
without the slightest hesitation, that in no form of religion — in 
no Church, can the designs of God and the wants of man meet 
their fulfillment, save in that one Church, in that one holy re- 
ligion, in which Christ is substantiated, under the form of bread 
and wine, in the Blessed Eucharist. In order to do this, I have 
to ask you to reflect with me what are the designs of God upon 
man. 

There are three remarkable and magnificent epochs that mark 
the action of Almighty God upon His creature, man. The first 
of these was the moment of creation, when God made man. 
The second was the time of redemption, when God, becoming 
incarnate, offered Himself as the victim for man. The third 
epoch was the institution of the Blessed Sacrament, when God 
left Himself to be the food of His children, and to be made one 
with them by the highest and the most intimate communion of 
a present God, through all ages. To each of these three epochs 
I shrill invite your attention when I attempt to explain to you 
the designs of God. 

In the first of these — that is to say, in the act of creation, we 
find God stamping His image on man, in order that in man He 
might see the likeness of Himself. In the second of these 
epochs — that of redemption — we find God assuming and ab- 
sorbing our human nature into Himself; so that God and man 
became one and the same divine person, in order that God 
might see no longer tJie image of Himself in man ; but that He 



502 



The Blessed Eucharist, 



might see Himself actually and truly in man. In the third of 
these epochs, the institution of the Blessed Sacrament, we have 
God .coming home to every individual ; entering into our hearts 
and souls; bringing all that He is and all that He has to each 
and every man amongst us ; that the man-God in whom God 
and man were united, might be visible before the Father's eyes 
in the heart, in the soul, in the life of every man. The creation, 
therefore, was a design of mercy, which produced only an image 
or likeness. The redemption was a higher design of mercy, 
which produced God in man. The Holy Communion was the 
consummation of these designs of mercy, which propagated that 
God until He was made present in every man. Behold the de- 
signs of God ! First, then, is the creation. God, in the begin- 
ning, created all things, heaven and earth. He made the earth, 
with all its beauty. He made the firmament of heaven, with 
all its wonderful harmony and order. At his creative w^ord — 
fiat " — let it be — light sprang forth from darkness ; order came 
forth in silent beauty from chaos and confusion ; every star in 
heaven took its place in the firmament of God; the sun blazed 
forth in his noonday light and splendor ; the moon took up her 
reflected light and illumined with her silver rays the shades of 
night. All the spheres of God began their revolution through 
space, to that exquisite harmony of the divine commandment 
and the divine law. And they all surrounded that spot of crea- 
tion which was earth, and destined to be the habitation of man. 
This earth the Almighty God clothed with its manifold forms 
of beauty. He gave to it the revolving seasons — the freshness 
of the spring, the deep shade of the summer, the fruitful over- 
teeming of the autumn ; and every season took up its strain of 
joy and abundance and delight, at the command of God. But 
all these things, every form of life that existed, existed by the 
one word, fiat,'' of the Almighty God. But now, when^ the 
heavens above are prepared ; now, when the spheres are all in 
their places ; now, when every creature of God has received its 
commission, its faculty of life, light, splendor, and beauty ; the 
whole earth, heaven, and the firmament are made. Yet no image 
of God is there ; for there is no intelligence there — and God is 
knowledge ; there is no power of love there — and God is the 
highest and most intimate love ; there is no freedom there, but 
only the necessity of nature's law and instinct ; the whole 



The Blessed Eucharist. 



503 



world, in all its beauty, in all its harmony, still wants its soul ; 
for that soul, wherever it is to be, must be something like to 
God. Finally, when all things were prepared, God took of the 
slime of the earth, and made and fashioned with His hands a 
new creature ; a creature that was to rise and to uplift his eyes, 
and behold the sun ; a creature whose every form of material 
existence was to remain perfectly distinct from all other forms 
of creation. Into this creature's face the Almighty God breathed 
His own image and likeness, in an imperishable spirit — an im- 
mortal soul. Before He made this soul the mirror of Himself, 
He took thought with Himself, and said no longer, " let it be ;" 
but, counselling with His own divine wisdom, He said : " Let 
us make man unto our own image and likeness." And unto 
His own image and likeness, therefore. He made him, for He 
breathed upon him the inspiration of spiritual life — a living 
soul into the inanimate clay ; and upon that soul He stamped 
His own divine image. He gave to that soul the light of 
an intelligence capable of comprehending the power of love, 
capable of serving Him and loving Him. He gave to that 
soul the faculty of freedom, that, by no necessary law, by no 
iron instinct, was this new creature to act ; but with judgment, 
and with thought, and with intellectual inquiry. He was to 
act freely, and every action of his life was to flow^ from the 
fountain of unfettered freedom, like the actions of the Almighty 
God Himself, whose very essence is eternal freedom. 

Thus was man created. Behold the image of God stamped 
upon him ! Oh, how grand, how magnificent, was this creature ! 
The theory has been mooted in our day — " Was it worth God's 
while to create the sun, moon, and stars, and untold firmaments 
which no eye of man has yet discovered ; those stars far away, 
exceeding our earth in their magnitude, in their splendor, in 
their attractive power and beauty ; — was it worth God's while — 
the astronomer asks — for the sake of giving light to one of the 
smallest of the planets, to create so many others to revolve 
around her in space?" Yes, I answer; it was w^orth God's 
while, for one man, if He created but one — it was worth His 
while to create all these material beauties ; because man alone — 
that one man — would reflect in his soul the image of God — the 
uncreated and spiritual loveliness of his Maker. How grand 
was this first man, when he arose from the green mound out of 



504 



The Blessed Eiieliarist. 



which the Lord created him ! when he opened his eyes and be- 
held before him, shrouded in some dazzling form of material 
beauty, the presence of God ! He opened his eyes ; and seeing 
this figure of light and transparency before him, hearing from 
His lips the harmony of his Creator's voice, he knelt in adora- 
tion. He alone, of all the creatures in the world, was able to 
appreciate the infinite beauty of the Maker ; and springing to 
that ]\Iaker, with all the energy of his spirit, he bowed down be- 
fore Him, and offered the sacrifice of intellectual praise. He 
alone, of all the creatures of God, was able to appreciate the in- 
finite eternity of His existence ; His omnipotence ; His infinite 
goodness, grandeur, and beauty. He alone, of all God's crea- 
tures, was capable of appreciating with soul ; — that, out of the 
appreciation of his mind, his heart was moved to love. And 
he strained towards his God with every higher aspiration and 
affection of his spirit. He alone, of all the creatures of God, 
Avas able to say out of the resources of a free and unshackled 
will : "I will love Thee I I will serve Thee, O God I for Thou 
alone art worthy of all love and all service for all time ! " So, 
freely and deliberately weighing the excellencies of God against 
all created beauty ; calculating with the power of his intelligence 
the claims of God upon him — he acknowledged these claims — 
he acknowledged in his intellect the infinite beauty of God ; 
because of his intellectual appreciation, he decided freely to 
serve God in his life. That free decision from the intellect was 
a God-like act, of which no other creature upon this earth was 
capable. Therefore, the Almighty God appealed to that act as 
the great test and proof of man. 

Thus we see in the beginning the Almighty God stamped His 
image upon His people. And in this He showed the design of 
His creation — the greatness of His mercy and of His love. He 
had prepared all things for man. He had made all things for 
him. All things pointed to him ; all nature, newly created in 
all its beauty, still cried out for that crowning beauty, the 
beauty of intelligence, the beauty of the power of love, the 
grandeur of freedom. And man Avas created as the very apex, 
the ver}' climax of God's creation, the crown and the perfection 
of all. Behold the mercy of God I God might have left this 
4 world in all its material yet unintellectual beaut}'. He might 
have left all his creatures to enjoy the life that He gave them, 



The Blessed EiicJiarist. 



505 



and to fulfill the limited and necessary sphere of their duties — ■ 
and yet never have sent intelligence and love and freedom upon 
them. But no ; God wished to behold Himself in His creation. 
He wished to be able to look down from Heaven and see His 
image in his creation. God wished that all nature should hold 
up the mirror of its resemblance to Him in man. God's design 
was that wherever the child of man existed, there He, looking 
down, should behold His own image in the depths of that pure 
intelligence ; in the depths of those pure affections ; in that un- 
shackled, magnificent, imperial freedom of man's will. 

This was the first design. Far greater was the second design 
of God's mercy. God knew and foreknew, from all eternity, 
that man, by the abuse of his free will, would turn against his 
God. The Almighty God knew and foreknew, as if it were 
present before his eyes — for there is no past, no future to the 
eyes of God : all things are present to Him — He knew and 
foreknew that, in the day when He placed Himself and His 
own divine perfection and His own claims on one side, and the 
devil made the appeal to the passions and pride of man on the 
other side — He knew that His free creature would decide 
against Him — would abandon Him — tell Him to begone, and 
take all His gifts with Him, and would clutch the animal and 
base gratifications of a sensual pride. God knew this. He 
knew that, in that act of man, man was destined to cloud his 
clear intelligence so that it would no longer reflect the image of 
God— that man was destined, in that act, to pollute his pure 
affections, so that they should no longer reflect the image of 
God in love. God foresaw and foreknew that man was destined, 
in that act of rebellion, to fetter and enslave his free will, and 
to make it no longer a servant and minister of his intelligence, 
but of his passions and of his desires. In a word, God saw 
His own image broken and spoiled in man by the sin of Adam. 

Then, my dearly beloved, in these eternal designs of love, God 
said in His own decrees from all eternity, " My image is gone ; 
My likeness is shattered ; My spirit is no longer amongst them ; 
and I must provide a remedy greater than the evil. I will 
send — in the second plan of my mercy and the design of my 
love — I will make no longer a renewed image in man ; I will 
not restore what they have broken and destroyed ; but I will 
send My Eternal Son. He, the reality, whom no evil can 



5o6 



The Blessed Eucharist, 



touch, whom no temptation can conquer — I will put Him into 
man ; and I shall behold, no longer the fallen man, but I shall 
behold, in the redeemed man, Myself restored in the person of 
Jesus Christ." Oh, my beloved brethren ! does not the infinite 
mercy — the all-extending, all-grasping love of God — come in 
here ? He might, in His designs of mercy, have restored His 
broken image in man ; He might have given man the power of 
repentance. He might, in the largeness of His mercy, wipe 
away sin, undo that most fatal work, and give back to man, in 
the unclouded intelligence, and in the pure heart, and in the free 
will, all that man had lost of the divine image by sin. He 
might have done this without at all descending Himself; with- 
out at all coming down from the throne of His greatness and 
uncreated majesty and glory. But no ! God resolves to do 
more for the reparation of man than man had ever done in the 
ruin of himself by sin. God resolves to send His only begotten 
Son, who, incarnate of the Holy Ghost, and of the Virgin 
Mary, w^as made man. The Lord Jesus Christ is born of the 
Virgin Mary; an infant wails upon His mother's bosom ; an 
Infinite God, looking down from Heaven, beholds not only His 
own image in man, but beholds Himself in Him, His only 
begotten, co-equal, and consubstantial Son. Therefore, He is no 
longer the image, but the Man-God. He is no longer the like- 
ness of God, but the reality of God — according to the Scrip- 
tures of old : " I have said ye are gods, and all of you the sons 
of the Most High." 

God made us to be His servants. When man refused to be a 
servant, God, in His mercy, lifted him up, and made him a son. 
Instead of taking the children of men and binding us together, 
as a bundle of fagots, and flinging us into hell, and in His 
greatness and justice forgetting us all — instead of doing this, 
when God saw that we were fallen, and that not even His image 
remained in man, in the destruction of grace, and in the partial 
destruction of the perfection of his nature — He sent His only 
begotten Son : so that the creature, instead of being punished 
by eternal ruin and banishment, is raised, by redemption, and 
made a son of God. " To those who received Him, He gave 
the power to become the sons of God." Can you comprehend 
this mercy ? Do you ever reflect upon it ? I sinned in Adam- 
Sinning thus in Adam, I deserved to be cast away from God, 



The Blessed Eucharist, 



507 



and never see His face again. I sinned in Adam. Sinning 
thus, I lost all that God gave me of grace, and a great deal that 
He gave me of nature Instead of flinging me aside, Almighty 
God comes down from heaven, becomes my brother ; and says — 
Brother, all that I am in heaven— the Son of God — I am 
willing to make you by adoption. My Father is willing to take 
you in as my younger brother. My Father is willing to 
acknowledge that all I am by nature you are by the grace of 
adoption."- So, in the work of redemption — in the second de- 
sign of God — we rise to the grandeur and dignity of a more 
sublime position than in Adam. We become the younger 
brethren of God Himself. We become members of the house- 
hold and of the family of Jesus Christ. 

But, you will say to me, what connection has this with the 
Blessed Eucharist ? You engage to show us that the designs 
of God were fulfilled in the Real Presence. You speak of the 
design of creation — of the design of redemption ; but what 
have these two designs to do with the institution of the Blessed 
Sacrament ? the transubstantiation of Christ upon the altar ? 
It has this : The first design of creation was intended by the 
Almighty God to be, that man, preserving the graces in which 
he was created — preserving the image in which he was made 
— should remain faithful to God, free from sin, the conqueror of 
his own passions, and of every temptation that could come 
upon him ; and so, living in the light of purity, in the fervor 
of love, in the strength of freedom, that he might journey on 
through happiness and peace upon the earth, until he attained 
to the fulfillment of his perfection, and laid hold of the eternal 
crown of glory. This was the design of God. This was marred 
by sin, Man sinned ; and the design of God could no longer 
be fulfilled ; he let evil into his soul ; he destroyed the in- 
tegrity of his nature ; he violated the virginity of his soul ; he 
came to the knowledge of evil ; and, with the knowledge, he 
came to the love of evil. Understand this well ; it is a deep 
thought ; it enters into the designs of God. Every individual 
man born into this world was born a sinner. Defilement was 
upon him : the seeds of future evil were in him. All that was 
necessary for him was to let th^ infant grow into a youth ; and, 
by the corruption of his nature, he became an individual sinner, , 
because the root of evil was in him. The seeds of corruption 



5o8 



The Blessed Eucharist. 



were implanted in him ; his blood was impure and defiled. All 
that was necessary was the dawn of reason and the awakening 
of passion. The former made him an infidel ; the latter made 
him a debauched, licentious, and impure sinner. This was the 
consequence of Adam's sin. Therefore, my dearly beloved, it 
was not only our nature that sinned in x\dam, but every indi- 
vidual of our nature sinned in him ; save and except the Blessed 
Virgin Mary. Put her aside, and at once the whole race of 
human beings are individual sinners in Adam — not actual sin- 
ners, yet individually tainted by sin. This, to be sure, is one of 
those things that people overlook. They do not understand 
that the curse of Adam came down to each and every one of us 
— this sin of Adam, which was written upon our foreheads in 
characters of defilement. When it was a question of remedy- 
ing that evil, it was necessary that the Almighty God should 
exercise His mercy individually upon each and every one of us. 
Two things, therefore, were tainted by the sin of Adam — the 
nature and the individual. The nature, common to all, was 
tainted ; man's nature was broken ; man's nature was cor- 
rupted ; that which was common to us all — the universal nature 
— was defiled and injured by Adam's sin ; and in that defilement 
and injury every single individual child of Adam participated ; 
so that every one of us, personally and individually, was defiled 
in our first parent. Now, it follows from this, that when the 
Almighty God, in His second design of mercy — namely, the re- 
demption — when He resolved to undo all the evil that Adam 
had done — when He resolved to bind up and heal the wound that 
Adam had made — it was necessary that God should take thought 
for the nature that was corrupted, and for the individuals that had 
fallen in Adam. If He had taken thought only for the nature, 
it would not be sufficient for us ; for our nature may be restored, 
and, unless that restoring power come home to us, we, our- 
selves, may remain in our misery. God provided a remedy for 
the nature — the universal nature. In the incarnation He sent 
His own divine son, who took our nature — our human nature 
— who took a human body, a human soul, haman feelings, a 
human heart, a human mind, human intellect, human will — 
everything that belonged to the nature of man, Christ, our 
, Lord, took; but he did not take the individual. Mark it well ! 
You Catholics ought to know the theology of your divine 



TJii Blessed Eucharist. 



509 



religion — mark it well. Christ, our Lord, took everything that 
was in man, except the individuality — personality. That He 
did not touch. He took our nature, and absorbed it into His own 
person ; but He never took a human person. No man could say 
of our Lord, pointing to Him : " He is an individual man." 
No I He was a divine man. When he spoke, His words 
were those not of man, but of God ; because the person 
who spoke was divine. If He suffered, it was the suffer- 
ing, not of man, but of God ; because the person was 
divine. 

This was necessary ; because, unless the Divine Person 
— that is to say, God — consented to suffer and to die, the sin 
of man's nature could never have been wiped out. When, 
therefore, the eternal Father, in His love for mankind, sent 
His co-eternal Son upon the earth. He, in that act of Incarna- 
tion of the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, provided a 
remedy for the evil of Adam's nature ; for the human nature 
that was spoiled. Again I assert that Christ, our Lord, never 
took the human personality ; that He left the individuality of 
every man to himself; that He did not take the individuality 
or personality of the man, but only the nature. In order to 
remedy the nature it was necessary, in the designs of God, that 
God should unite Himself with that nature. Mark this : that 
God should unite Himself with man's nature was necessary in 
the designs of God, in order that man's nature might be puri- 
fied and restored. Was this necessary to the designs of God ? 
Absolutely necessary. The Virgin Mary — on that day in 
Nazareth, when Gabriel stood before her — represented the 
human race. She represented human nature, in her alone un- 
fallen ; and to that all-pure, and unfallen one, the angel said : 

Mary, a child shall be born to you, and he shall be called the 
son of the Most High God." Mary paused ; and, until Mary, 
of her own free w^ill, answered : Behold the handmaid of God ; 
be this thing done unto me according to Thy word ; " until 
Mary^ said that word, the mystery of the Incarnation was suspend- 
ed, and man's redemption was left hanging upon the will of one 
woman. But when Mary said the word, human nature, distinct 
from man's personality, was assumed by God. If Almighty 
God had not consented to unite Himself with our nature, that 
nat-ure never could have been redeemed. But thus we see that 



The Blessed Euchm^ist. 



one great portion of Adam's evil was remedied in the In- 
carnation — namely, that our nature was purified. 

But what about the individual? It is not so much the purifica- 
tion of my nature — our common nature — that concerns me. I am 
an individual man — the son of my mother ; I am a human person ; 
Christ, our Lord, had nothing to-say to the human person in the 
Incarnation. How, then, am I, a human person, to enter into the 
graces and purity of God ? Oh, behold, my brethren, how the 
two previous designs culminate ! Christ, our Lord, multiplied 
Himself. Christ, our Lord, changed bread and wine into His 
own divine body and blood. Christ, our Lord, made Himself 
present in the form of man's food. That food is broken. Every 
child that cries for that divine bread shall have it. That human 
individual, that personal creature, is united to God, and the in- 
dividual is sanctified as the nature was sanctified. The nature 
could not be redeemed or sanctified except by union with God ; 
the individual is sanctified by the same means — union with God 
in the Blessed Eucharist. Thus, then, we see how the design of 
creation — spoiled in Adam — spoiled not only in the nature but 
in the individual, is made perfect in Jesus Christ, as far as re- 
gards the mystery of the Incarnation. Well, therefore. He says: 
Unless you eat of the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink His 
blood, you shall not have life in you." He was speaking to the 
individual. He did not say, "You cannot have life in your 
nature." He put life into human nature by taking that nature 
upon Himself. There was life there already — life eternal — in 
the person of Jesus Christ. But He was speaking to individuals ; 
and He said to them, Unless you bring Me home unto your- 
selves, individually, you cannot have life in you ; for I am the 
life ; life indeed ; life eternal, that came down from heaven ; and 
unless you eat of My flesh, and drink of My blood, you cannot 
have life in you. But if you do this, if you eat of this flesh, and 
drink of this blood, then you shall abide in Me, and I in you." 

Behold, therefore, dearly beloved, how the mystery of the In- 
carnation, affecting, as it did, our nature, is brought home in its 
wonderful expansion to each human person in the Holy Com- 
munion. Oh, how sad and terrible, how dreadful is the thought, 
that the devil has succeeded the second time in destroying us ! 
First, he destroyed our nature in Adam ; now, he succeeds in 
destroying the person in heresy, in Protestantism. He came 



The Blessed EucJiarist. 



* 511 



and whispered, Christ is not in the Blessed Eucharist ! He is 
not there ! " He cut off— by that denial of Protestantism of the 
Real Presence — the last great design of God, in which the crea- 
tion and the redemption were to be made perfect in their 
remedy, and brought home to every individual man. Suppose, 
my children, that some dreadful epidemic came in amongst you 
— some fearful eruption of Asiatic cholera — that a sailor landed 
from a ship in New York, with the cholera, and from him it 
spread through the city ; we would look upon that man as the 
origin of the evil, because he brought it, as Adam brought evil, 
and sin, and misery into this world. Then, suppose some great 
physician arose — some mighty sage — and said he held in his 
hand a great remedy ; said to the whole city of New York, 

Behold, I am come from a foreign land, where we have never 
known disease or complaint, with this sovereign remedy in my 
hand. No one that partakes of this shall ever suffer from this 
hideous disease ! " Would we not take the remedy out of his 
hands ? Would we not eat of that medicine, which is life out of 
death to us ? So, Christ, our Lord, represents that great phy- 
sician, coming with a sovereign remedy in His hand, and with 
that remedy we will remedy our nature in His Incarnation. 
Then he says, " I am come from a foreign land that has never 
known disease or death. I came from heaven. I bring the 
remedy against Adam's corruption and Adam's sin. I am the 
head of your nature ; now I am one with you. So I say to you 
all : Whoever wishes to escape this dire disease, must partake 
of this miraculous food. It is the self-same food brought down 
to elevate your nature, that is My own self" What would you 
think of a man that said,/' Don't go near Him ! don't take that 
food from His hand ! don't believe in Him ! " — thus clinging to 
disease and death. Why, you see clearly, my brethren, as we, 
Catholics, believe and know, that the Almighty God has suf- 
ficiently revealed in His designs, that it is absolutely necessary 
for every man, who wishes to be saved and sanctified, to come 
into personal contact with our Lord Jesus Christ, by opening 
his mouth and receiving the body and blood, soul and divinity, 
of the Lord, in the Holy Communion. 

Such is the design of God. Now it remains for us to see 
whether that which so completely fulfills the designs of God, 
fulfills also the wants of man. Oh ! my brethren, before we 



512 



The Blessed Eucharist. 



leave these designs, let us consider how magnificent they are. 
The Father loved man. First, in the beginning, when, as God, 
He loved His own image. What great love have you for the 
likeness of your own face in the looking-glass ? Every feature 
is there, every expression is there, but it is only an image. What 
love would a man have for his own portrait, even though designed 
by a master-hand ? Every tint and beauty of color may be there, 
every delicate trait most true to nature, and to the person 
represented. But, after all, it is only a piece of canvas, over- 
laid with a little paint, skillfully arranged; only an image. God, 
in the second design, beholds in man His own adorable and be- 
loved Son ; the Eternal Word, that from all eternity rested in 
the Father's bosom ; the very figure of His substance, and the 
splendor of His glory, equal to Him in all things, knowing and 
loving Him, and loved by Him with a substantial love, which 
is the Third Person of the Blessed Trinity — the Holy Ghost. 
He came down from heaven, became man ; and the Eternal 
Father no longer looks upon man as a man would look upon 
his own picture, as an image. He looks down as a loving 
father of a family looks down on the face of his eldest son. 
How different the love of a man is for his own image, reflected 
in the mirror, or perpetuated by the painter's hand, cold, life- 
less, inanimate, and his own image seen in every feature, in 
every lineament of his child ; the child of his own manly love ; 
the child growing and displaying every perfection, and return- 
ing the love of the father ; the child surrounding all the graces 
of ordinary infancy with a peculiar grace and shining beauty 
in his father's eyes, until he draws every chord of that father's 
heart, entwining around him so closely, that if the child should 
die, or disappear, the father would seem to have lost every pur- 
pose of life, and be ready to lie down and die upon the grave 
of his first-born ! So the Almighty and Eternal God, looking 
down in the second design of His redemption, beheld one who 
was not a human person, but the Second Divine Person of the 
adorable Trinity ; not merely human, though truly human ; 
but man and God united in one. And that union consummated, 
not in man, not in the human person, but in God, the divine 
person ; and just as that image of Jesus Christ so captivated 
the Father's love, that twice He rent the heavens miraculously, 
and sent down His voice — once, when Christ was standing in 



TJie Blessed Eucharist, 



513 



the Jordan, and, another time, when He was transfigured on 
Mount Tabor — on both occasions, the miraculous voice — as if 
God could no longer contain His love — saying, " This is My 
beloved Son, in t\'hom I am well pleased ; hear ye Him! " That 
image so captivated the Father's love that he wished to repro- 
duce it in all the children of men — that He wished to multiply 
it. It was so fair, so beautiful, that the Eternal Father, when- 
ever He cast His eyes upon the earth, wished to see it multi- 
plied in every man personally. He w^ished to see every man 
another Jesus Christ, His Son. He wished to be able to say to 
you and to me, He is also my beloved child, in whom I am 
well pleased." In order to do this His divine Son multiplied 
Himself, and remained upon earth — broke, as it were, His ex- 
istence. His perfect existence. His inseparable existence — 
broke it ; separated it into a thousand forms ; became present 
upon your lips and mine, and on those of the little child that 
comes up to this altar; so that the mere image of God re- 
ceives the Holy Communion, goes down from this altar, and the 
Father of heaven looks down, and says, Behold, My beloved 
Son, Jesus Christ, is there ! " The angel guardian that conducts 
the child to the altar, prostrates himself before the figure of that 
child as he returns from the altar again. For now he is indeed 
a human person ; but God is in him. 

And this is the supreme want of man. That which is the 
fulfillment of the divine design is the supreme want. What is 
that we want. Christian believers as you are ? — tell me your 
great want in this world ! Every man has his own wants and 
hopes and desires and purposes of life. What is it that you 
want ? What do we aspire to ? Tell me. One man says : 
"Well, I hope to become a wealthy man; to be the founder of 
a grand family in the land." Do your hopes stop here, my 
friend ? The grand family you found will follow you to the 
grave. Have you brought no hopes with you ? Another says : 
" I hope to obtain some distinguished position, the first position 
in the land." I suppose you may one day be President of the 
United States. But the day will come when they will carry the 
President, and consign him also to his grave. What is your 
hope and mine ? Oh, friends and brethren ! is it not my hope 
to bring out in my soul here by grace, and hereafter by glory, 
the image of the Eternal God, which is stamped upon it ? My 

33 



The Blessed EucJiarist. 



hope is to live in the light of divine grace, to walk in the beam- 
ing of divine purity. My hope is to keep my will unfettered, 
that freely I may devote it to the service of my God. My hope 
is to rise by divine help into all the majesty ^f Christian holi- 
ness. And the majesty and the glory of the Christian man lies 
here — that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, may be brought out in 
him. No great one in heaven, but the greatest of all — the 
Eternal God and man, Jesus Christ. He stamped the God upon 
our humanity in the Incarnation ; He stamped the God upon 
our nature ; and that stamp He left on our nature ; and we 
must stamp it upon our person. And the true want of every 
Christian man, and the true purpose of his existence, is to bring 
out the Christ that is in him, and to become a son of God. 
Nothing short of this. If we fail in this, then all our hopes 
perish from us. If we fail in this, it is in vain that we have 
achieved every other purpose of life ; it is in vain that we have 
written our names, even in letters of gold, upon the foremost 
page of our country's history ; it is in vain that w^e have left a 
name to other times, built up upon the solid foundation of every 
higher quality that is enshrined in the temple of man's immor- 
tality ; it is in vain that we have accumulated all the world's riches. 
If we fail to bring out the Christ that is in us, then we are, of 
all men, the most miserable ; because we have failed in realizing 
the only true hope, the only true want of the Christian man. 
What follows? Says the Saviour— " If a man gain the whole 
world " — ^the world's places, the world's honors — "and lose his 
own soul, what profiteth it him ? " And the loss of his soul is 
effected in man by neglecting to bring Christ out in him. For it 
is written — our vocation, our calling, our justification — that is to 
say, our sanctification, our ultimate glory — all depend upon one 
thing — making ourselves, by divine grace, conformable to Jesus 
Christ. For God foreknew and predestinated that we might be 
made like to the image of Jesus Christ : and " those whom He 
called He justified, and those whom He justified He glorified." 

This being the want of man, how is it to be supplied ? Can 
man alone supply the want? No! There are three enemies 
that stand before us. Powerful and dreadful are each and every 
one of these enemies, saying to us : I am come to destroy the 
Christ in you ! " The first of these is the world — the world 
with its evil maxims ; the world with its pride, with its avarice. 



The Blessed EiicJiarist. 515 

with all its false ideas ; the world with its newspapers and peri- 
odicals, with all its theories not stopping short of theorizing 
upon God ; — the world that tells us its influence is elevating, 
although the Almighty God tells us it is not ; and that mocking 
buffoonery of religion, dissolving the matrimonial tie, the most 
sacred of all bonds ; the world, flooded with impurity, evil ex- 
amples, and its evil maxims and principles, comes before the 
Christian man, hoping to be made like unto Jesus Christ, and 
says : " I tell you you must not be a Christian. I will surround 
you by my influence ; I will beset you with evil examples ; I 
will pollute the moral atmosphere you live in with my false 
principles, and work the Christ out of you ! " Will any man be 
able, of his own power, to resist this influence and conquer it ? 
Ah I it has captivated and enslaved the best intellects of our 
age ; the grandest minds of our age have been utterly debauched 
by worldly principles ; for we know the very best intelligences 
of our age, at this moment, are writing the sheerest nonsense in 
the matter of religion — these men who write articles in the news- 
papers upon commercial subjects with so much wisdom — these 
men whose wits are keen as a razor in philosophical speculation 
— quick to perceive a flaw in an argument — when these men 
come to write about religion, they are simply fools — as you will 
see in looking at any of the leading newspapers of New York to- 
morrow morning — what this man and that man said in the various 
conventicles and churches to-day ; — you will find a Quaker stand- 
ing up — a holy man — humming, hawing, and rocking himself, 
lifting up his languid eyes to heaven ; and then, after a long 
pause, you will find him denying the Divinity of Jesus Christ, 
and declaring that He was not the Son of God at all ! This 
happened last Sunday in New^ York. You will find another 
man coming out wuth the theory and the belief that man never 
fell ; and, therefore, does not need any remedy. This — in the 
face of the moral and social corruption and guiltiness of our 
age, that is revolting to the eyes of God and man ! Thus it is 
the world blinds the very best intellects and the shrewdest and 
strongest minds. And do you expect to resist this ? No I You 
cannot do it. You must say with St. Paul: ''Of myself I can 
do nothing; but I can do all things in Him." In Him we can 
do all things. He is here for you and me. 

The next great enemy is the flesh — the domestic enemy. The 



TJie Blessed EncJiarist. 



blood in our veins, the passions and the senses of our bodies, 
rise up against us to enslave us, and say: ''You must not be- 
come like to the Son of God I The Son of God was infinite purity. 
I will not allow you to possess your soul in purity ! I will not 
allow you to develop the spiritual existence that is within you ; 
you must follow the dictates of your passions ; you must become 
a drunkard, a licentious and impure man ! I will fill that eye 
with the flaming, lustful glances of desire ; I will m.ake the 
absorbing desire for everything base throb in your veins, till it 
becomes a necessity of your nature." Thus says the flesh. Can 
we conquer it? The greatest and the grandest of earth's sons 
have been the meanest slaves to their own passions. The grand- 
est names upon the rolls of histor}' — the greatest heroes — the 
greatest philosophers — have all attached to them — when we turn 
the leaves of history and look at their lives — the foul stain of 
their impurity, running through their lives and covering all their 
existence with the vilest of all earthly passions. No ! We can- 
not conquer this flesh of ours, but in Him — the Lord our God 
— who of old bound up the demon and cast him forth into the 
desert of Ethiopia. So can we bind, with Him, these unruly 
passions, and stem the flood of desire in our corrupt and polluted 
natures, and deny ourselves for Him, w^ho will enable, whilst He 
commands us to do it ; and to cast forth the demon into the 
outer world that is so fitted for him. 

Finally, comes the pride of life, the third enemy. Ambition, 
the self-reliance, the pride of man, the pride that refuses to be 
dictated to. " Why" — that pride says — Why should I submit 
to the commands of religion? Why, it tells me I should go like 
a little child and prepare myself and go to confession ! W^hy, it 
tells me I should go through these devotions that are only fit 
for women and nuns ! Why should I fast and suffer hunger ? 
I have all things around me. Don't I find such and such texts 
in Scripture that tell me ' All things are good ' ? Why shall I 
abstain from "anything ? Why should I not have my own way, 
and reject all authority, human and divine ? and, first of all, the 
law that man must bear the obedience, humility, and mortifica- 
tion of Jesus Christ in him if he would be saved ? " Will you be 
able to contend against this pride ? this pride that carries away 
the best and highest of earth's children ? No ! You will never 
be able to contend against it, to keep the humility of your in- 



TJie Blessed Eucharist. 



517 



f ellect, the fidelity of your faith, unless you feed upon Him who 
is the source of all virtue and all life. And thus, it is only by 
the same means that Christ has effected in the Incarnation — by 
God uniting Himself in our nature in Christ — that he also effects 
our sanctification in the Holy Communion. Therefore, it accom- 
plishes at once all the designs of God. 

I have done my duty. I have finished my theme. Nothing 
remains for me but to remind the Catholics who are here, the 
Catholics of this city, the Catholic men who were nourislied in 
the Catholic faith and derived that faith from Catholic — and 
many amongst them from Irish — mothers — to remind you that, 
for three hundred years of persecution and death, it w^as the 
Holy Communion, and Ireland's devotion to it, that kept the 
faith alive in our fathers. They resisted that pride of life. The 
world came and declared to them that they should give up their 
faith. They said nof against the whole world. They kept their 
faith, through Jesus Christ, in the Holy Communion. They re- 
sisted their passions and restrained them ; so that Ireland's 
purity, in the purity of her daughters and the manliness of her 
sons — (a virtue that always accompanies personal purity and 
purity of race) — was unexcelled. They resisted, even when titles 
and honors were ready to be showered upon them. And when 
high intellect was challenged to disprove the faith in which they 
believed, they bowed down before their time-honored altars ; 
and Ireland's faith in her religion w^as never stronger than in the 
days when she suffered most for it. I say to you. Catholics of 
New York, that no man can be saved from the world around 
him, the flesh within, and the devil that is beneath him, unless 
Jesus Christ be with him. I tell you. Catholics of New York, 
men of New York, who only go once a year to Holy Commu- 
nion — that it would be almost better for you if you did not know 
the truth. If you want to know the explanation of your sins, 
of the drunkenness around you, of the impurity and savage 
assaults committed, of all the quick, hasty crimes of which our 
Irish nature is more capable than of the meaner and more cor- 
rupt crimes, the reason of it all is this — that you are not fre- 
quent and fervent communicants. If you ask me for a rule, I 
find, although I go to communion every day of my hfe, I have 
enough to do still to conquer my spiritual enemies. And, if I, 
a priest, have enough to contend with to be saved after receiv- 



518 



The Blessed Eucharist. 



ing the Holy Communion every morning, how can you be saved? 
If you ask me for a rule I will give it in a few words. I believe 
every man who wishes to have the peace of Christ, and live in 
His Christian holiness, and have Christ brought forth in him, 
that man should be, at least, a monthly communicant. 



THE MONTH OF MARY. 



[The opening sermon of a course for the month of Mary, delivered in the Church 
of St. Vincent Ferrer, New York, Wednesday evening, May ist, 1872.] 

E are commencing this evening the devotions to the 
Blessed Virgin, to which the Church invites all her 
children during the month of May. The faithful at all 
seasons invoke the mercy of God through the inter- 
cession of the Blessed Virgin Mother. But more especially dur- 
ing this sweet month, the opening of the beautiful year, does 
our Holy Mother invite our devout thoughts and prayer to the 
mother of God, and put before us the Blessed Virgin's claims 
and titles to our veneration and love. Guided by this Catholic 
instinct and spirit we are assembled here this evening, my dear 
brethren, and it is my pleasing duty to endeavor to unfold be- 
fore your eyes the high designs of God which were matured and 
carried out in Mary. And first of all I have to remark to you, 
as I have done more than once before — that in every work of 
God we find reflected the harmony and the order which is the 
infinite beauty of God Himself. The nearer any work of His 
approaches to Him in excellence, in usefulness, in necessity, the 
more does that work reflect the beauty and harmony of God 
who created it. Now, dearly beloved, the highest work that 
ever God made — that it ever entered into His mind to con- 
ceive — or that He ever executed by His omnipotence — was the 
sacred humanity, or the human nature of Jesus Christ ; and, 
next to Him in grandeur, in sanctity, in necessity, is the institu- 
tion of or the creation of the Holy Catholic Church of God. 
When, therefore, we come, as pious children of the Church, to 
examine her.doctrines, to meditate upon her precepts, to analyze 
her devotions, we naturally find ourselves at once in the king- 




520 



The Month of Mary. 



dom of perfect harmony and order. Everything in the Church's 
teaching harmonizes with the works of the human inteUigence ; 
everything in the Church's moral law harmonizes with the wants 
of man's soul. Everything in the Church's liturgy, or devotions, 
harmonizes with man's imagination and sense, in so far as that 
imagination and sense help him to a union with God. And so, 
everything in the Church's devotion harmonizes with the nature 
around us, and within us, and with that reflection of nature in 
its highest and most beautiful form, which is in the spirit and in 
the genius of the Blessed Virgin Mary. I remember, once, 
speaking with a very distinguished poet — one of a world-wide 
reputation and honorable name — a name which is a household 
word wherever the English language is spoken — and he said to 
me : Father, I am not a Catholic ; yet I have no keener pleas- 
ure, or greater enjoyment, than to witness Catholic ceremonial, 
to study Catholic devotion, to investigate Catholic doctrines — 
nor do I find," he said, " in all that nature or the resources of 
intellect open before me, greater food for poetic and enthusiastic 
thought than that which is suggested to me by the Catholic 
Church." And so, it is not without some beautiful reason — 
some beautiful, harmonious reason — that the Church is able to 
account for every iota and every tittle of her liturgy and of her 
devotions. 

And, now, we find the Church upon this, the first of May, call- 
ing all her pious and spiritual-minded children, and telling them 
that this month is devoted, in an especial manner, to the Blessed 
Virgin Mary. What month is this, my dearly beloved ? It is 
the month in the year when the Spring puts forth all its life, 
and all the evidences of those hidden powers that lie latent in 
this world of ours. You have all seen the face of nature at 
Christmas-time, during Lent, even at Easter-time, this year — 
and looking around you, it seemed as if the earth was never to 
produce a green blade of grass again. You looked upon the 
trees ; no leaf gave evidence there of life. All was lifeless, all 
was barren, all was dried up. And to a man who opened his 
eyes but yesterday, without the experience of past years and of 
past summers, it would seem to him as if it were impossible 
that this cold, and barren, and winter-stricken earth could ever 
burst again into the life, the verdure, the beauty, and the prom- 
ise of Spring. But the clouds rained down the rain of heaven. 



The MontJi of Mary. 



521 



and the sun shone forth with the warmth of Spring, and sud- 
denly all nature is instinct with life. Now, the corn-fields sprout 
and tell us that in a few months they will teem with the abund- 
ance of the harvest. Now, the meadow, dried up, and burned, and 
withered, and yellow, and leafless, clothes itself with a green man- 
tle, robing hill and dale with the beauty of nature, and refreshing 
the eye of man and every beast of the field that feeds thereon. 
Now, the trees that seemed to be utterly dried, and sapless, and 
leafless, and motionless, save so far as they swayed sadly to and 
fro to every winter blast that passed over them — are clothed 
with the fair young buds of Spring, most delicate and delightful 
to the eye and to the heart of man, promising in the little leaf 
of to-day the ample spread and the deep shade of the thick 
summer foliage that is to come upon them. Now, the birds 
of the air, silent during the winter months, begin their song. 
The lark rises on his wing to the upper air, and, as he rises, 
he pours out his song in ether until he fills the whole atmo- 
sphere with the thrill of his delicious harmony. Now, every bud 
expands, and every leaf opens, and every spray of plant and tree 
sends forth its Spring-song, and hails with joy the summer, and 
all nature is instinct with life. How beautiful is the harmony of 
our devotion and our worship — how delicate, how natural, how 
beautiful the idea of our Holy Mother, the Church, in selecting 
this month — this month of promise — this month of Spring — this 
month of gladness — of serene sky and softened temperature — 
this month opening the summer, the glad time of the year, and 
dedicating it to her who represents, indeed, in the order of 
grace, the Spring-time of man's redemption ; opening the sum- 
mer of the sunshine of God, the first sign of the purest life 
that this earth was able to send forth under the eyes of God and 
man ! Oh, how long and how sad was the winter ! The winter 
of God's wrath — the winter of four thousand years, during which 
the sunshine of God's favor was shut out from this world by the 
thick clouds of man's sin, and of God's anger ! How sad was 
that winter that seemed never to be able to break into the 
genial spring of God's grace, and of His holy favor and virtue 
again ! No sunbeam of divine truth illumined its darkness. No 
smile of divine favor gladdened the face of the spiritual world 
for these four thousand years. The earth seemed dead and 
accursed, incapable of bringing forth a single flower of promise. 



522 



The Month of Mary, 



or sending forth a single leaf of such beauty that it might be fit 
to be culled by the loving hand of God. But, when the summer- 
time was about to come — when the thick clouds began to 
part — the clouds of anger, the clouds of sin — the cloud of the 
curse was broken and rent asunder, and gave place to the purer 
cloud of mercy and of grace, that bowed down from heaven 
overladen with the rain and dew of God's redemption, — then 
the earth moved itself to life in the sunshine, and the first flower 
of hope, the first fair thing that this earth produced for four 
thousand years, in the breaking of winter, before the summer, 
in the promise of Spring, was the immaculate lily, the fairest 
flower that bloomed upon the root of Jesse, and in its bloom., 
sent forth pure leaves ; and so fragrant w^ere they, that their 
sweet odor penetrated heaven, and moved the desires of the 
Most High God to enjoy them ! according to the word of the 
prophet, Send forth flowers as the lily, and yield a sweet odor, 
and put forth leaves unto grace." So bright in its opening was 
this spiritual flower — the fixst flower of earth — that even the eye 
of God, looking down upon it, could see no speck or stain upon 
the whiteness of its unfolding leaves. "Thou art all fair, my 
Beloved ! " He exclaimed, " and there is no spot or stain upon 
thee." And this flower — this Spring flower — this sacred plant — 
that was to rear its gentle head, unfold its white leaves, and 
show its petals of purest gold, Avas Mary, who was destined from 
all eternity to be the mother of Jesus Christ. She was the 
earth's Spring, full of promise, full of beauty, full of joy ; she 
Avas the earth's Spring that was to be the herald of the coming 
summer, and of the full, unclouded light of God's own sun beam- 
ing upon her. And, just as the little leaf that comes forth in the 
corn-field to-day, holds in its tiny bosom the promise of the full 
ear of wheat, bending its rich, autumnal head, the staff of life to all 
men, so Mary's coming, from the beginning, was a herald and a 
promise of His appearance upon the earth — was the announce- 
ment that that little plant was to grow and to endure, until it 
was to be crowned with the purity of God, and to bring forth 
the bread of life, the manna of heaven, the bread of angels, 
Jesus Christ, the world's Redeemer, the Word made flesh. 

How w^ell, therefore, dearly beloved brethren, how well does 
not this fair Spring month of May, this opening of the summer 
of the year, testify in nature what Mary was in the order of 



The Month of Mary. 



523 



grace. And just as the Almighty God clothes this month in the 
order of nature with every beauty, fills the fields with fragrance, 
clothes the hill-sides with the varied garb of beauty that nature 
puts forth, so tender, so fair in its early promise, so also the Al- 
mighty God clothed the Spring — the spiritual Spring of man's 
redemption, which was Mary, in every form of spiritual beauty, 
and robed her in every richest garb of divine loveliness of which 
a creature was capable, so that every gift in God's hand that a 
human creature was capable of receiving, Mary received. For, 
in her the word of my text was to be fulfilled. It was a strange 
promise, beloved ; a strange and a startling word that came from 
the inspired lips of the Psalmist as he said, speaking of His 
chosen : " I have said : You are Gods, and all you the sons 
of the Most High ! " That word was never fulfilled until the 
Son of the Most High became the son of a woman. This 
was the meaning of St. Augustine, when he says : God 
came down from heaven in order that He might bring man 
from earth to heaven, and make him even as God." Thus it 
was that man, in the Child of Mary, united with God, became 
the Son of the Most High. Thus it was that, in virtue of the 
union of the human and divine which took place in Mary, we 
have all received, by the grace of adoption, the faculty to become 
children of God. " But to as many as received Him," says St. 
John, to them did He give the power to be made the sons of 
God." And this was the essential mission, the inherent idea of 
Christianity — to make men the sons of God ; to make you and 
me the sons of God by infusing into us the spirit of Jesus Christ, 
and bringing forth, in our lives, and in our actions, and in our 
thoughts, and in our inner souls, as well as in the outer man, the 
graces and glorious gifts that Jesus Christ brought down to our 
humanity in Mary's womb. Never has this idea been lost to 
the Catholic Church. My friends and brethren, you are living 
now in the midst of strangers. You hear the wildest theories 
propounded every day in philosophy, in science ; but in 
nothing are the theories or the vagaries of the human mind 
so strange as when they take the form of religious speculation 
or religious doubt. The notion prevalent among all men out- 
side of the Catholic Church nowadays is, that man has within 
him, naturally, without the action of God, without the action 
of Christ, the seeds of the perfection of his life ; that, by his 



524 



The Month of Mary. 



own efforts, and by his own study, and by what is called the 
spirit of progress, a man may attain to the perfection of his own 
being without God, and become all that God intended him to 
become. That notion is antagonistic and destructive of the 
very first vital principle of Christianity. The vital principle of 
Christianity is this : the Son of God came down from heaven 
and became man, and the child, the true child, of a woman, in 
order that mankind, in Him and through Him, might be able to 
clothe itself with His virtues, and so become like to God. And 
in that likeness to God lies the whole perfection of our being ; 
and the end of Christianity is to bring every sufficient agency 
to bear upon man ; to make that man like to God ; to make 
him as the Son of God. I have said, Ye are Gods, all of you, 
sons of the Most High ! " 

God is a God of truth. Man must be a man of truth in order 
to be like to God. God possesses the truth. He does not seek 
for it. He has it. He does not go groping, sophisticating, and 
thinking, and arguing in order to come at the truth. Truth is 
God Himself. And so, in like manner, man, to be a child of 
God, must have the truth, and not look for it. God is sanctity 
and purity in Himself. Man must be holy and pure in order to 
be made the Son of God. He must be free from sin in order to 
be like to God, the Father. He must have a power over his pas- 
sions to restrain them, to be pure in thought, in word, and in 
action, in soul and in body, before he can be made like to the 
Son of God. And that religion alone, which has the truth and 
gives it ; which has grace and gives it ; w^hich touches sin and 
destroys it ; which enables the soul to conquer the body ; which 
holds up in her sanctuaries the types of that purity which is the 
highest reflection of the infinite purity of Jesus Christ — that 
religion alone can be the true religion of God. Every other 
religion is a lie. But the world is unable to believe this. Men 
compromise with their passions. Men go to a certain extent in 
satisfying their evil inclinations. Men refuse to accept the truth 
because the truth humbles them. Hence the Protestant 
maxim : Read the Bible, read the Bible, and don't listen 
to any priest ! These Catholics are a priest-ridden people. 
Whatever the priest says in the church is law with Catholics." 
They refuse the humility of this. They won't take the truth. 
They must find it for themselves ; and the man who seeks it. 



The Month of Mary. 525 

by the very fact of seeking it shows he is net the son of God. I 
say this much because, my dear friends, I wish you to guard 
against the wild, reckless spirit that is abroad in the world to- 
day ; I wish to guard you in your fidelity to the Church of God, 
your mother, in your fidelity to her teaching, in your fidelity to 
her sacraments ; that word that she puts on my lips and such 
as me— that sacramental grace that she puts into the hands of 
the priest for you ; these are the elements of your salvation ; 
these are the means by which every one of you may become the 
child of God ; and there is no perfection, no scheme of perfection, 
no secret of success, no plan of progress outside of this that is 
not an institution ,of the enemy, a delusion, a mockery, and a 
snare. And all this we get through Mary, because Mary was 
the chosen instrument in the hands of God to give to Him that 
human nature in which man was made even as the Son of God. 
Mary's coming upon the earth, therefore, was a Spring-time of 
grace. Mary's appearance in this world was like the morning 
star when, in the morning, after the darkness and tempest 
of the night, the sailor, standing upon the prow of the ship, 
looks around to find the eastern point of the horizon, and he 
sees, suddenly rising out of the eastern wave, a silver star, beau- 
tiful in its pure beauty, trembling as if it were a living thing. 
And he knows that there is the east, for this is the morning star. 
He knows that precisely in that point, in a few moments, the sun 
will rise in all his splendor, and he knows that that sun is com- 
ing because the herald that proclaims the sun has risen. The 
morning star proclaims to the wild wanderer on the deep, in the 
eastern horizon, the advent of the coming day. So with us, 
upon the wild and angry waves of sin and of error, and of God's 
anger and curse, our poor humanity, shipwrecked in the garden 
of Eden ; our poor humanity, without even the wreck left to us 
of the sacrament of penance ; our poor humanity, groping in the 
sacrifices and in the oblations of the world, for the love of God, 
the Redeemer, the day-star whose light was to illumine the dark- 
ness of the world — behold, suddenly, the morning star rises, the 
pale, trembling, silver beauty of Mary ! Then it was known that 
speedily, and in a few years, the world would behold its Redeemer, 
and mankind would be saved in the fullness of Mary's time. 
Therefore it is, that she enters so largely into the scheme and plan 
of redemption, that the Almighty God willed it, that even as the 



526 



The MontJi of Mary. 



name of Jesus Christ was to be made known to all men, was to 
be glorified of all mien, was to be proclaimed as the only name 
under heaven by which man was to be saved ; and so, also, side 
by side Avith His purpcse of God's declaration of the glory of 
His divine Son, came the prophecy of ]\Iary, from the same 
spirit, that wherever the name of Jesus Christ was heard and 
revered, that there, and to the ends of the earth, all generations 
were to call her blessed. " He that is mighty hath wrought 
great things in me," she says; ''Wherefore, behold, henceforth 
all generations shall call me blessed." 

And now, my friends, going back to the fountain-head of our 
Christianity, going back to the earliest traditions of the Church 
of God, examining, with the light of human scrutiny, her spirit, 
as manifested in the earliest ages of her being, in the earliest 
documents she presents us Avith, does not ever}- man find that 
wherever the true religion of Christ was propagated, wherever 
there was the genius and the instinct of faith that adored Jesus 
Christ, there came the fellow-instinct and genius that loved, and 
revered, and venerated, and honored the woman who was His 
mother. If every other proof of this was wanting, there is one 
proof — a most emphatic proof — and it is this : that whilst the 
Blessed Virgin ]\Iary was yet living, during the twelve years 
that elapsed before her assumption into heaven, a religious order 
was organized in the Catholic Church, devoted to the venera- 
tion, and the love, and the honor of the Blessed Virgin — a re- 
ligious order dating from the early times of the prophet — a 
religious order founded by the sons of the prophets, under the 
Jewish dispensation, was converted to Christianity, and at once 
banded itself together and called itself The Brethren of our 
Lady of ]\Iount Carmel." Xo sooner was our Lady assumed 
into heaven, than these men spread themselves through Pales- 
tine and through the East, and the burden of their teaching and 
their devotion was the gloiy of the Mother of God ; the woman 
who brought forth the ]\Ian-God, Jesus Christ. No sooner was 
the Gospel preached than the devotion to the Blessed Virgin 
Mar\^ spread with the rapidity of thought, of sentiment, and of 
love, through all distant parts ; and when, five hundred years 
later, a man rose up and denied that ]\Iar}' was the IMother of 
God, we read that when the Church assembled at Ephesus in gen- 
eral council, the people came from all the surrounding countries, 



The Month of Mary. 



527 



and the great city of Ephesus was overcrowded with the anxious 
people, all waiting for the result of the deliberations, and all pray- 
ing ; and when, at last, the Council of the Holy Church of God 
put forth its edict, declaring that Mary was the true ^Mother of 
God, we read of the joy that came from the people's hearts, the 
cry of delight that rang from their lips, the All Hail ! " that 
they gave to you, Mother in heaven, spread throughout the 
universal Church, and never, among the many conclusions of 
her councils for eighteen hundred years, never did the holy 
Catholic Church give greater joy to her children, than when she 
proclaimed, in the fifth century, that Mary was the Mother of 
Go-d, and, in the nineteenth century, that Mary was conceived 
without sin. But as we are entering upon this May's devotions, 
I wish, dearly beloved, to bring unto your notice this very de- 
votion to the Mother Mary as a wonderful instance of the 
rapidity with which this devotion to the Mother of God spread 
throughout the Catholic Church. 

It was at the beginning of this present century that this de- 
votion of the Month of ]\Iary sprang up in the Catholic Church ; 
and the circumstances of its origin are most wonderful. Some 
seventy years ago, or thereabouts, a little child — a poor little 
child — scarcely come to the use of reason, on'a beautiful even- 
ing in May, knelt down, and began to lisp with childish voice 
the Litany of the Blessed Virgin before the image of the Child in 
the arms of the Madonna in one of the streets of Rome. One 
little child in Rome, moved by an impulse that we cannot 
account for — apparently a childish freak — knelt down in the 
public streets and began saying the litany that he heard sung in 
the church. The next evening he was there again at the same 
hour, and began singing his little litany again. Another little 
child, a little boy, on his passage stopped, and began singing 
the responses. The next evening three or four other children 
came, apparently for amusement, and knelt before the same 
image of the Blessed Virgin, and sang their litany. After a 
time — after a few evenings — some pious women", the mothers of 
the children, delighted to see the early piety of their sons and 
daughters, came along with them, and knelt down, and blended 
their voices in the litany ; and the priest of a neighboring church 
said : " Come into the church, and I will light a few candles on 
the altar of the Blessed Virgin, and we will all sing the litany 



528 



The Month of Jfa?'j'. 



together." And so they went into the church; they Hghted up 
the candles, and knelt, and there they sang the litany. He 
spoke a few words to them of the Blessed Virgin, about her pa- 
tience, about her love for her Divine Son, and about the dutiful 
veneration in which she was held by her Son. From that hour 
the devotion of the month of May spread throughout the 
whole Catholic world ; until within a few years, wherever there 
was a Catholic church, a Catholic altar, a Catholic priest, or 
a Catholic to hear and respond to the litany, the month of 
May became the month of Marj^, the month of devotion to 
the Blessed Virgin. Is not this wonderful? Is not this per- 
fectly astonishing? How naturally the idea came homiC to the 
CathoHc mind ! With what love it has been kept up ! With 
what love — with what instinct — it spread itself! How con- 
genial it was to the soil saturated with the divine grace through 
the intelligence, as illumined by divine knowledge and divine 
faith I Does it not remind you of that wonderful passage in 
the Book of Kings, where the prophet Elias went up into the 
mountain-top, when for three years it had not rained on the 
land, and the land was dried up ; and he went up on the solitary 
summit of the mount, there to breathe a prayer to God to send 
rain upon the land. Whilst he was praying in a cave in the 
rock, he told his servant to stand upon the summit of the moun- 
tain, and to watch all round, and to give him notice when he 
saw a cloud. The servant watched, and returned seven times — 
" and at the seventh time, behold, a little cloud arose out of the 
sea, like a man's foot .... and while he turned himself 
this way and that way, behold, the heavens grew dark with 
clouds and wind, and there fell a great rain." 

The word " Mary " means the sea — the star of the sea. A 
few years ago, a cloud of devotion, no larger than the foot of 
a little child, in Rome was seen, and whilst men looked this 
way and that way, it spreads over the whole horizon of the 
Church of God, and over the whole world, and then, breaking in 
a rain of grace and intercession, it brings an element of purity, 
and grace, and dignity, and every gift of God to every Catholic 
soul throughout the world. Oh ! when I think of the women 
that I have met in the dear old land of Faith ! The women 
oppressed from one cause or from another ! Some with sickness 
in the house ; some with, perhaps, a dissolute son ; some with 



TJie Month of Mary, 



529 



a drunken husband ; some with the fear of some great calamity, 
or of poverty, coming upon them ; some apprehensive of bad 
news from those that they love. How often have I seen them 
coming to me in^the month of iMay, just in the beginning, and 
brightening up, thank God and say, the month is come I I know, 
She in heaven will pray for me, and that my prayers will be 
heard I And I have seen them so often coming before the end of 
the month, to tell me, with the light of joy in their eyes, that the 
Mother heard their prayer, and that their petitions were granted ; 
then was I reminded of that mysterious cloud that broke out in 
the heavens, and rained down the saving rain. One have I be- 
fore me — one whom I knew and loved — a holy nun who, for 
more than fifty years, had served God in angelic purity, and in 
heroic sacrifice. For seven months she was confined to a bed 
of pain and of suffering that deepened into agony. And, during 
those seven months, her prayer to God was, whilst suffering, 
to increase those sufferings. Not to let her leave the world 
until one whom she loved dearly, and who was leading a 
bad and reckless life, should be converted unto God. Weeks 
passed into months, and month followed month, and most 
frequently did I sit at the bedside of my holy friend. Month 
followed month for seven long, dreary months, and she spent 
that time upon the Cross, truly with Jesus Christ. But when the 
first day of May came — the month of Mary — I came and knelt 
down by her bedside, to cheer her with prayer and with sym- 
pathy. She said to me, I feel that the month is come that 
will give me joy and relief. It is Mary's month, and it is the 
month when prayer grows most powerful in heaven, because it 
is the month in which the Mother will especially hear our 
prayers." Before that month was over, he for whom she 
prayed was converted to God, with all the fervor of a true 
conversion ; and when the month was drawing to a close, 
the sacrifice of pain and suffering was accepted, and she who 
began the month in sorrow, ended it with the joys of Jesus 
Christ and his Virgin Mother. So it is all the world over. 
His secret graces are poured out at the instance of Mary's prayer. 
And even as she was the Spring-time of grace upon earth, so is 
she even now in heaven, by her prayer for us the spring-time of 
holy grace, obtaining for us the grace of repentance, the grace 
of prayer, the grace of temperance, the grace and power of self-- 

34 



530 



The Month of Mary, 



restraint — in a word, whatever grace we demand, that, spring- 
ing up in our souls, will produce to-day the flower and leaf of 
promise — to-morrow, the fruit of maturity — and for eternity, 
the reward of grace which is the everlasting crown of God's 
glory. 




THE CATHOLIC CHURCH THE 
TRUE EMANCIPATOR. 



[Delivered in St. Stephen's Church, New York, in aid of the mission to the colored 
race in this country.] 

Y DEAR FRIENDS : I am come before you this 
evening to assert a proposition which would require 
no proof, if all men were of one mind regarding the 
claims of the Catholic Church to be the Church of 
Christ. I assert for the Catholic Church that she is the true 
emancipator of the slave ; and I say again, that if men were of 
one mind touching her claims to be the true Christian Church, 
this proposition would require no proof ; for, any man who be- 
lieves in the agency of Christ as perpetuated in His Church, 
must at once conclude that one of the highest and greatest of 
the duties of that Church is the duty which her divine founder, 
Himself, came to accomplish — viz. : the work of emancipation. 
He came and found, not this race, or that, not this class or order 
of men, or that, but all mankind, and all races of men, enslaved 
in the direst form of slavery ; a slavery that entered into their 
very souls ; a slavery that not only destroyed their freedom of 
will, but also clouded, and thereby destroyed, the clearness of 
their intelligence ; a slavery that bound them helpless at the 
feet of the most cruel of all masters, for that master was no 
other than the devil, the prince and ruler of all mankind, the 
enslaver of the intellect, of the will, and of the soul of man. 
The prophet of old had foretold of our divine Lord and Re- 
deemer, that He came to break the chains of man's slavery, to 
emancipate him, to take him from out that deep and terrible 
servitude into which he was fallen, and to endow him once more 
with ''the freedom of the gloiy of the children of God." There- 




532 



The Catholic ChiircJi 



fore He came. Amongst all the other titles that belonged to 
Him is that pre-eminently of the emancipator of an enslaved 
and a fallen race. And if His action is to continue in the 
Church, if His graces are to flow on through that Church, and 
His light is to come forth, pure, and bright, and radiant in the 
Church which He founded, all we have to do is to find that 
Church ; and, bound to her brows, we shall find the crown of 
the emancipator of the human race. That Church we Catholics 
know and believe to be the mother that has begotten us unto 
God, through the Gospel." 

Now, my friends, how did Christ effect the work of His eman- 
cipation ? I answer, that He emancipated or freed the intelli- 
gence of man from the slavery of the intellect, which is error ; 
and that He emancipated the will of man from the slavery of 
the will, Avhich is sin. And he carefully defined what manner 
of freedom He came to found and confer, when He said to a 
benighted race, whom He enlightened: ''You shall know the 
truth, and the truth shall make you free." And, to a degraded 
and corrupt race. He said : '' I am come that, where sin hath 
abounded, grace might abound still more ;" and, in the abun- 
dance of His grace He called us unto the freedom of the chil- 
dren of God. 

Behold, then, the elements of emancipation, as found in the 
actions and in the words of the Son of God, the Redeemer, the 
Saviour, and the Emancipator. Truth ; truth broadly diffused ; 
truth borne upon the wings of knowledge unto ever}^ mind. 
Not speculation, but truth ; not opinion, but knowledge; not 
study of the truth, but possession of the truth. There, says the 
Son of God, lies the secret of your intellectual freedom. There- 
fore He lifted up His voice ; He flung abroad the banner of His 
eternal truth ; He called all men to hear the sound of His voice, 
and to rally round the standard of His truth and of His knowl- 
edge. And the word which He spoke was borne upon the 
wings of the angels for all future time, unto the farthest ends of 
the earth, upon the lips of the preaching and infallible Church 
which He founded. I say the " preaching Church" which He 
founded, for ''Faith comes by hearing;" and the knowledge 
which emancipates the intelligence must come by a living voice. 
But, I add, as no other knowledge save that of the pure truth 
as it is in the mind of Jesus Christ, thus delivered by a living 



TJlc True Emancipator . 



533 



voice, can emancipate the intelligence of man, therefore the 
voice which He commanded to teach the world, must bear the 
unfailing, and infallible, and unmixed message of the truth of 
the Lord Jesus Christ. For, if that voice can admit the slight- 
est blending of error, if that voice can falter in the delivery of 
the truth — or mix up the slightest distortion of error w^ith that 
truth — it ceases to be the voic^ of Jesus Christ, and it only, in 
its teachings, substitutes one form of slavery for another. Oh, 
if the men of our day would only understand this ! If the men 
who boast of their civilization would only understand this : that 
whatever is not the truth is not the voice nor the message of 
God ; whatever, by any possibility, can be untrue, cannot be the 
voice of God ; if men would only understand this : that there is 
no greater insult that we can offer to a God of truth, than to 
take a religious lie — a distorted view, a false idea — put it into 
our minds, and say: This is the truth of God ; this is religious 
truth ! But, no ! We boast to-day of our liberality ; we boast 
to-day of the multitude of our sects, and of our religious institu- 
tions ; we boast to-day of an open Bible, from which every man 
draws — not the Word of God, for I deny that it is the Word of 
God — it is the Word of God only when it is taken from that 
page as it lies in the mind of God — we boast to-day that that 
Bible is open to every man to look in it for the canonization of 
his own error, lying in his distorted meaning given to that 
divinely inspired page ; and then, we pretend that all this is a 
mark of religion ; and the man who would indignantly resent a 
lie, told him in the ordinary avocations and social duties of life ; 
the man who would resent, as a deep injury, being taken in in a 
matter of business, in the furnishing of an account, or any such 
transitory thing, is precisely the man that is most indifferent, and 
careless, and most easily reconciled, when it is a matter that lies 
between him and the God of truth, whether he possesses that 
truth or not. Yet, I say again, it is a disreputable thing to be 
taken in by a lie, to believe a lie. It is a mark of intellectual 
and moral imbecility to cling to a lie, and uphold it as the 
truth. And remember that, when it is a matter betw^een us and 
God — the interpretation of the message of God — the tone that 
the voice of God takes in falling upon our ear ; remember that 
whatever is not true as God, is the worst form of untruth, for it 
is a lie involving insult to God and destruction to man, and that 



534 



The Catholic Church 



the truth of God is declared to be, by the Saviour of the v/orld, 
the essential, primary element of that emancipation with which 
Jesus Christ came down to free us. 

But, dear friends, grand and magnificent as is the possession 
of that truth, luminous as the light is which is poured into the 
soul from the Almighty God, through the eyes of the mind, 
opening to divine truth, it is not enough to accomplish the free- 
dom of man. The soul of freedom lies not only in the mind 
possessing truth, and thus shaking off the chains of intellectual 
slavery, which is error ; but it also lies in the will, sanctified, 
strengthened, and purified by the divine grace of Jesus Christ. 
Of what avail to you, my fellow-men, or to me, that we should 
know all knowledge ? — if a man is a slave to his own passions — 
if every degrading passion and inclination, of a base or an inferior 
nature, has only to cry out imperiously to be instantly served 
and gratified, at the expense of the soul's nobility and life, and 
at the expense of God's friendship and His grace. Of what 
avail is knowledge to a man if that man be impure ? Of what 
avail are the soundest principles or examples, moral or divine, 
to that man who, holding them, does not act up to them, but is 
dishonest ? And, therefore, there is another and a more terrible 
slavery, even, than that of the intellect ; and that is, the slaver}' 
of the will. Now, to meet this, Christ our Lord, the divine 
healer, the divine physician of our souls, established certain 
means by which His grace, His strength, His purity, was to 
be communicated to us, to our wills, just as, by the preaching of 
the Gospel in the Church, her light is communicated to our in- 
telligence. And these means are, the sacred morality of the 
Church's laws ; the sacred barriers that she uprears between the 
soul and sin ; the sacramental graces that she pours forth to 
heal the soul, and purify it, and cleanse it again, if it be tainted 
and sullied by sin ; the agencies that she holds in her hands to 
preserve that soul from a relapse into sin, strengthening it so 
that it is able to command all its passions, to repress all undue 
and corrupting inclinations, to give a triumph to the spirit over 
matter — to the soul over the body — until the Lord Jesus Christ, 
who was not only the fountain of all truth, but the creator of all 
holiness, and its representative, be reproduced again in the souls 
of all his children, and a perfect people be reared up in sanctity 
to God. 



The True Emancipator. 



535 



Without this grace of the heart and the will, there is no free- 
dom. Without the agency of the Church, I say, as a rule, there 
can be no grace. Without her sacraments, the will of man — 
the will of man, which may be enslaved — the will of man, which 
is enslaved whenever man is in sin — can never be touched ; for 
the sacramental hand of the Charch alone can touch it. And 
here, again, as the word of the Church's teaching must be no 
other than the word of Jesus Christ himself — not only as it is 
written in the inspired volumes, but as it lies in the mind of God, 
and, therefore, the Church, is bound to explain it ; so, also, the 
graces of the Church, and the agency that she has in her hands 
to touch the will, must be no other than the very power, the 
very action, the very grace of Jesus Christ. No other hand but 
His, no other power but His, no other influence but His — the 
Lord, the Redeemer, the Saviour — coming home to every in- 
dividual man, can purify that man's soul, and strengthen him to 
gain the victory which conquereth the world, the flesh, and the 
devil ; the victory of divine faith ! For, of what avail to me, I 
ask you, of what avail to me is it that a priest should lift up his 
hand and say, I absolve thee from thy sin," unless that word, 
that grace, that power to do it, come to that priest from Jesus 
Christ ? Of what avail to me that a man pour water on my 
head, and say, " I baptize thee in the name of the Father, Son, 
and Holy Ghost," unless that baptism, that water, had sacra- 
mental influence, instituted by the Lord, endowed with a 
peculiar power for this purpose — the cleansing of the soul — and 
be tinged, mystically, with the saving blood of the Redeemer? 
Of what avail to me if I come to this altar, open my mouth, and 
receive what appears to be a morsel of bread, unless the Re- 
deemer of the world had said, " Without me you can do nothing. 
And now, I will come to you. Take ye, and eat of this ; for 
this is my body and my blood " ? Therefore, it is the action of 
Jesus Christ that must remain as powerful, as pure, as merciful, 
in the dispensation of the Church's grace — as her words must 
be pure from error, and unmixed with error, upon the lips of 
the Church's preaching. Behold the two great elements of 
man's emancipation. Wherever these are not, there is a 
slavery. He that believes a lie — and, above all, a religious un- 
truth — is a slave. He that commits sin, is the slave of sin. 
What avails it that you emancipate a man — strike the chains ofl' 



53^ 



The Catholic C/iurch 



his hands — send him forth, in name, a free man ; send him forth 
with every constitutional right and civic privilege upon him ; 
send him forth glorying in his freedom, without understanding 
it, and, perhaps, unprepared to use it properly? If you leave 
that man's intelligence under the gloom of ignorance — if you 
leave that man's will under the dominion of sin and of his own 
passions, have you made him a free man? You call him a free 
man. But, God in heaven, and, unfortunately, the devil in hell, 
laughs and scoffs at your idea of freedom. 

And now, my friends, this being the mission, declared and 
avowed by our Divine Lord — this, consequently, being the mis- 
sion handed into the hands of the Church to be fulfilled by her, 
let us turn to the Church's history and see whether she has 
been faithful to her duty in thus applying the elements of 
emancipation to man. It is an historical question, and one that 
I must deal with, principally, historically. Now, in order to 
understand it, we are, first of all, to consider, what was the state 
of the world when the Church began her mission ? How did 
she find society ? Was it barbarous or civilized ? I answer 
that the Church's mission, when she first opened her lips to 
preach the Gospel, was to a most civilized and highly intellectual 
people. Augustus was in his grave, but the Augustan era, the 
proudest, the highest, and most civilized, yet shed its influence 
over the world. All the wisdom of the ancients, all the learn- 
ing of Pagan philosophy — was represented in that august assem- 
bly before which, upon the hill of Athens, Paul, the Apostle, 
stood up to preach the " Resurrection and the Life." All the 
light of ancient philosophy was there. All the glory of art was 
there in its highest perfection. All the resources then attained 
to in science were there. Men were glorying in that day, as 
they are in this, in their material progress and in their ideas. 
But how was this society constituted with regard to slavery ? 
Why, my friends, in that ancient Pagan world, we read that, at 
the time when there were sixty thousand inhabitants in the city 
of Athens, the capital of Greece, there were forty thousand 
slaves and only twenty thousand freem.en. We read how, in 
the society of Sparta, another city of Greece, the slaves had so 
multiplied that the masters lived in constant fear lest their ser- 
vants — their bondsmen — should rise up in their power and 
destroy them. We read of Rome, that the slaves were in such 



The True Emancipator. 



537 



numbers, that when it was proposed in the Senate that they 
should wear a distinct dress, it was immediately opposed on the 
ground that if they wore a distinct dress they would come to 
recognize their own numbers and strength, and would rise and 
sweep the freemen from the soil. So much for the civilized 
nations. What do we know of the barbarous nations ? Why, 
Herodotus, the historian, tells us, that, on one occasion, a 
nation of Scythians went forth and invaded Media ; and, when 
they returned after a successful war, flushed with triumph and 
with victory, such was the number of the slaves that they had 
enslaved, from the misfortunes of war and other causes, that, 
actually, when they returned in all their might, they found that, 
in their absence, their slaves had revolted, and they were chased 
by their own servants — their own slaves — from their own coun- 
try. How were these slaves treated ? They were treated thus. 
We read that when a certain Prefect of Rome, Pedanius Secun- 
dus, was murdered by one of his slaves, as a matter of course, 
following the law, there were four hundred of that man's bonds- 
men taken, and they were all put to death without mercy, 
without pity — four hundred innocent men for the fault and 
the crime of one. Had the slave any rights ? None whatever. 
Had the slave any privilege or recognition of any kind ? None 
whatever. His life and his blood were accounted as of no 
value ; and, what was still worse, the highest philosophers of 
ancient Greece and Rome, writing on this subject, laid down as 
a principle, that these men were created by the gods, as they 
called them, for the purpose of slavery ; that they came into 
this world for no other purpose ; that they had no souls capable 
of appreciating anything spiritual ; no feelings to be respected, 
no eternal nor even temporal interests to be consulted ; so that 
a man who had the misfortune to fall into slavery, found him- 
self not only enslaved but degraded. 

Such was the state of the world when the Catholic Church 
began her mission. And now, what was the first principle that 
the Church preached and laid down ? The first emancipating 
principle that the Catholic Church announced was this : She 
proclaimed that slavery was no degradation ; that a man might 
be enslaved and yet not be degraded. This was the first prin- 
ciple by which the Church of God recognized the nobility of 
the soul of man — no matter from what race he sprang ; no 



538 



The Catholic CJmrcJi 



matter what misfortune may have fallen upon him — that he 
might be enslaved, nay, more, that his very slavery might bring 
its own specific duties upon him ; but that slavery, in itself, was 
no degradation. You may say to me, perhaps, this was a false 
principle. I answer. No ; it is not a false principle. I am a 
slave, yet I am not a degraded man ; I am a slave, for, 
many years ago, I swore away, at the foot of the altar, 
my liberty, my freedom, and my will, and gave them up to 
God. Am I, therefore, degraded ? No. We are all slaves in 
this sense — that the Scriptures tells us that we have been 
bought at a great price by our Lord Jesus Christ ; and, there- 
fore, that we are the servants and bondsmen of Him who 
bought us. But who will say that such slavery as this is deg- 
radation ? No, my friends. You may, perhaps, say to me. But 
we all admit our servitude to God. Well, this is precisely the 
point ; and St. Paul, proclaiming the first elements of the 
Church's laws and doctrines touching slavery, declared that even 
a man who was enslaved by his fellow-man was no longer a 
slave — that is, in the sense of a degraded slave ; because Al- 
mighty God, through His Church, recognized that man's soul — ■ 
recognized his feelings — and commanded him to be faithful, 
even as a slave — not to the master, as to a man, but to the 
master, for the sake of Jesus Christ, and as reflecting authority 
and power over him. These are the express words of the Apos- 
tle ; and mark how clearly they bring out this grand principle. 
He says: "Whosoever are servants under the yoke, let them 
account their masters worthy of all honor, lest the name of the 
Lord and His doctrines be blasphemed." He goes on to say : 
''You, slaves, obey those that are your masters according to the 
flesh, with fear and trembling, in the simplicity of your hearts, 
as to Jesus Christ Himself, not serving to the eye, as it were 
pleasing men, but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of 
God from the heart, with a good will, serving as to the Lord, not 
to man." 

This was the first grand element of the Church's emancipa- 
tion. She removed from the slave the degradation of his slavery, 
by admitting that, slave as he was, he could, in obeying his 
master, obey God — transfer his allegiance, as it were, from the 
man to the principle of God's authority reflected in that man ; 
and thus serve, not as to the eye of man, but to the eye of 
Jesus Christ. 



The True Emancipator. 



539 



Secondly, the Apostle declares that slavery ceased to be a 
degradation when the master and the owner was as much a slave 
as his bondsman. And this he declares in this principle : And 
you, masters," he says, do the same thing as your slaves, for- 
bearing threatening, knowing that the Lord, both of them and 
of you, is in heaven, and that there is no respect of persons 
with Him." Masters," he adds, do to your servants that 
which is just and equal, knowing that you, also, have a 
Master who is in heaven." The Pagan idea was that the master 
was the absolute governor and ruler of his slave — the lord of 
life and death — and that that slave was created to do his will ; 
and that for his treatment of his servant he was not responsible 
before God. The Apostle, in the name of the Church, imposes 
upon the master and slave the common servitude to the one 
God ; and then he lays down the third great element, by which 
he relieves slavery of its degradation, when he says : There is, 
in Christ, neither bondsman nor freeman, neither Jew nor 
Gentile, neither barbarian nor Scythian, but Christ, the Lord, 
in all ; and ye are all one in Jesus Christ." • 

These, my friends, were the first words of consolation, of 
hope, of manly sympathy with his fellow-men in slavery, that 
ever came from the lips of a teacher, religious or otherwise, 
from the world's creation. And these came from the lips of the 
Catholic Church, speaking through her divinely inspired Apostle. 
Therefore, I claim for her, that, in the beginning, she was faith- 
ful to her mission, and that she proclaimed that she came to 
console the afflicted in his slavery, and to lift from him the 
weight of the degradation which was upon him. Then, the his- 
tory of the Church began. You all know, my dear friends, how, 
five centuries after the Church was established, the barbarians — 
the Goths, the Vandals, the Alans, and all these terrible nations 
from the North, swept down over the Roman empire, and de- 
stroyed everything : broke up society ; reduced it to its first 
chaotic elements ; and slavery was the universal institution all the 
world over. Every nation had it. The captive that was taken 
in war lost his liberty, not for a day, but for ever. The man 
who was oppressed with debt was taken for his debt, and sold 
into slavery. The Church of God alone was able to meet these 
barbarians, to confront them, and to evangelize to them her 
gospel of liberation ; and to soften, and gradually to diminish. 



The Catholic Church 



until at length, she all but destroyed the existence of this un- 
just slavery. The Church of God — the Catholic Church, was 
the only power that these barbaric nations would respect. The 
Pope of Rome was the great upholder of the principles of 
liberty ; because liberty means nothing more nor less than the 
assertion of right for every man, and the omnipotence of the 
law, which insures him his right, and defines that right. And 
how did the Pope act ; and how did the Church carry out her 
mission ? My friends, we find that from the fifth century — from 
the very time that the Church began to be known and had com- 
menced to make her influence felt amongst the nations — among 
the very first ordinances that she made, were some for the re- 
lief of the slave. She commanded, for instance, under pain of 
censure, that no master was to put his slave to death ; and you 
may imagine under what depths of misery society was plunged, 
and from what a state of things the Catholic Church has saved 
the world — ^when I tell you that one of the ordinances of a 
council in the sixth century was, that if any lady (now just 
imagine this to yourselves!) — being offended by any of her 
slaves, or vexed by them, put the slave to death, that she was 
to undergo several long years of public penance for the crime 
that she had committed. What a state of society it was, when 
a delicate lady, arraying herself, perhaps, for an evening meet- 
ing — a ball, or a party — with her maiden slaves around her, 
dressing her, adding ornament to ornament — that if one of them 
made a slight mistake, the delicate lady was able to turn round 
— as we read in the Pagan historians, and as Roman ladies did 
— and thrust her ivory-hilted dagger into the heart of her poor 
slave, striking her dead at her feet. The only power that was 
recognized on the earth, to make that lady responsible — the only 
power that she would listen to — the only representative of the 
law that was thus to fling its protection over the unhappy 
slave, was the power of the mighty Church, that told that lady, 
that if she committed herself to such actions as these, outside 
the Church's gates she should kneel, in sackcloth and ashes ; that 
she should kneel far away from the altar and the sacrifice ; that 
she should kneel there until, after long years of weeping and peni- 
tence, as a public penitent, she was to be permitted to crawl into 
the church, and take the place of the penitent nearest the door. 
And so, in like manner, we find the Church, in the progress 



The True Emancipator. 



541 



of ages, making laws, that if any slave offended his master, and, 
if the master wished to punish him, then and there, by some 
terrible form of aggravated punishment, and if that slave fled 
from his master, there was only one place where he could find 
security, and that was the Church. For the Church declared 
that the moment a slave crossed her door and entered into her 
sanctuary, that moment the master's hand was stayed, and the 
slave was out of his power, until the case was fairly tried, and 
proportionate and just punishment imposed, as would be im- 
posed on any other man who committed the samic offence. 

Again, we find the same Church, in the course of ages, im- 
posing a threat of excommunication upon any man wh-o should 
capture a manumitted or emancipated slave, and reduce him to 
slavery again. Further on, we find the same Church making a 
law that when a bishop, or a cardinal, or a great ecclesiastic 
died, all those who were in servitude to him should be immedi- 
ately freed. These were the freedmen of the Church, as they 
were called. 

But, you may ask, why didn't she abolish slavery at once? 
And this is the accusation that is made against the Catholic 
Church, even by such a man as Guizot, the great French states- 
man and philosopher ; who indeed admits that the Catholic 
Church, in her action, in her genius, always tried to preach the 
subject of emancipation ; but why did she not do it at once ? I 
answer, the Church of God is the only power upon earth which 
at all times has known how to do good, and to do it wisely and 
justly. It is not enough to do a good thing because it is good: 
it must be well done ; it must be wisely done ; there must be 
no injury accompanying the doing of it ; nor no injustice stain- 
ing the act. The Church of God could not, from the very be- 
ginning, have emancipated, without doing a grave injustice to 
the society which she would disturb, to the owners of these 
slaves, against whom she might be accused of robbery ; but the 
greatest injustice of all to the poor slaves themselves, who were 
not prepared for the gift of freedom. And therefore, taking 
her own time, proclaiming her principles, acting upon them 
strongly, yet sweetly, and drawing to her every interest ; con- 
ciliating men's minds ; creating public opinion amongst society ; 
trying to save every man from injustice ; and, in the meantime, 
preparing mankind by faith and by sanctity for the gift of free- 



542 



The Catholic ChurcJi 



dom — she labored slowly, patiently, but most efficaciously in 
the great work of emancipation. For, my friends, there are 
two injustices, and grave injustices, which may accompany this 
great act of emancipation. There is the injustice w^hich may 
affect the whole of society, may break up public order, may 
ruin interests ; and that is the injustice which a sudden and a 
rash emancipation inflicts upon the society upon which it falls. 
For instance, as in Europe, in the early middle ages, slaves 
who, according to St. Augustine, were enslaved, not from any 
inherent right of man over his fellow-man, but in punishment for 
their own sins — these slaves formed a great portion of the pub- 
lic property. Nearly one-half of mankind were enslaved to the 
other. The consequence was that the disposition of property 
was affected by them ; that the tillage and cultivation of the 
land depended upon them ; that, in fact, the status and condition 
of the half who owned the slaves would be affected ; so that by 
a sudden and rash emancipation, the freeman of to-day would 
become a slave, in the poverty and in the unexpected privation 
and misery that would come upon him by the loss of all that he 
possessed in this world. Was that injustice to be done ? No, 
because it would defeat its own end. The end of all society is 
peace and happiness. The end of all society is concord and 
mutual straining to one end — each man helping his fellow-man ; 
and the Church was too wise to throw such an element of uni- 
versal discord amongst all the other dissensions that were tear- 
ing the heart of the world in those days, to throw in the ele- 
ment of dissension, and to set one-half the world against the 
other. 

But far greater is the injustice which is done to the poor slave 
himself by a sudden, an unexpected, and a sweeping emancipa- 
tion. For, my friends, next to Divine grace and faith, the 
highest gift of God to man is freedom. Freedom ! sacred lib- 
erty ! — sacred liberty ! within these consecrated walls — even as 
a priest I say, that sacred freedom is a high gift of God ; but 
the history of our race tells us that it is a gift that has at all 
times been most fatally abused ; and the poet says, with bitter 
truth, that at an early age he was left 

" Lord of himself — that heritage of woe." 

Liberty — lordship over oneself— unfettered freedom is, in most 



TJie True Emancipator. 



543 



cases, a heritage of woe," and especially when a man does not 
understand what it means, and is not prepared for its legitimate 
exercise. What is liberty? that sacred word, so often used, so 
frequently abused, so little understood. Ah, my friends, what 
is liberty ? In our days men fall into two most fatal errors ; 
they have a false idea of religious liberty, and they have a false 
idea of civil liberty. The false idea of religious liberty is, that 
it consists in unfettered freedom for every man to believe what- 
ever he likes, and the false idea of civil liberty is that it consists 
in unfettered freedom for every man to do as he likes. A nation 
is said to have religious liberty when every man believes what- 
ever notion of religion comes into his head ; and consequently 
there are as many sects as there are religions. ]\Ien say, 

Grand ! glorious ! this is religious liberty ! " But yesterday 
there was only one faith in Italy, for instance ; to-day we hear 
men boasting : " Thirty thousand hearers, ten thousand preach- 
ers," of the new evangelical Church of Italy, and so on ; and in 
twenty years time, if this goes on, we shall have Italy broken 
up into Quakers, and Shakers, and Baptists, and Anabaptists, 
and all sorts of religious sects. Is this religious liberty ? Men 
say it is. Well, if this be religious liberty, all I can say is that 
the definition that Christ, our Lord, gave of religious liberty is 
wrong, for He said ; " You shall know the truth, and the truth 
shall make you free." It will follow from this that the more any 
nation or people approach to unity of thought, the more they 
approach to liberty, provided that one thought represent the 
truth of Jesus Christ. 

Civil liberty is also misunderstood. IMany imagine, now-a- 
days, that the essence of civil liberty is the power to rise up at 
any time and create a revolution — rise up against the rulers and 
governors — against the fixed form of constitutional law — and 
upset everj^thing. That is the idea, for instance — the popular 
idea, unfortunately — now in the minds of many in Europe. In 
France, for example, nearly every man that knows how to read 
and write has a copy of a constitution in his pocket, which he 
has drawn out himself, to be the future constitution of France ; 
and he is prepared to go out and stand on the barricades and 
fight for his constitution, and kill his neighbor for it. The idea 
of liberty, too, which has taken possession of the minds of many, 
seems to lie in this — that every man can do as he likes, and 



544 



The Catholic Church 



what he likes. Ah ! if this were brought home to us ; if it were 
brought home to us that every man could do as he liked ; that 
we could be assaulted and assailed at every hand's turn; that 
every man should go out with his life in his hand ; that there 
was no protection for a man against his neighbor who was 
stronger; and any man who, boasting of his power, says: "I 
want your money — I want your means — I am able to take it, 
and I am at liberty to take it ; because liberty consists in every 
man doing as he likes;" how would you like this liberty, my 
friends ? No ; the essence of liberty lies here ; the essence of 
liberty lies in recognizing and defining every man's right, no 
matter what he is, from the highest to the lowest in the state. 
Let every man know his own rights, be they great or small, be 
they limited or otherwise ; let every man have the fights that 
are just and reasonable ; let him know his rights ; don't keep 
him in ignorance of them ; define them for him by law, no matter 
what position he holds in society ; and when every man's rights 
are defined and recognized, and incorporated in law, let that 
law be put up on high ; put it, if you will, upon the very altar ; 
and let every man in the state — president, king, emperor, gen- 
eral, soldier, civilian — let every man, high or low, bow down 
before the omnipotence and the supremacy of that law. Let 
that law be there to define every man's rights, and to secure 
them to him, and let every man know that as long as he keeps 
himself within the exercise of his own rights, as defined by law, 
no power can touch him, no man can infringe upon him. Leave 
him free in the exercise of these rights; that is liberty, the 
supremacy of the law, the omnipotence of law, the law which is 
the expression of matured reason and of authority, respecting 
and defining every man's rights. Far more free is the man who 
is only able to do this thing or that, but knows that he can do 
them — that knows that these are his rights, and no man can 
prevent him from exercising them — than the man who has an 
undefined freedom, which is not preserved or secured to him by 
any form of defined law. 

This is civil liberty. And so it is as great a mistake to say, 
I can do what I like, therefore I am free ; I have civil liberty;" 
as to say, " I can believe what I like, therefore I have religious 
liberty." No, it is not true. Dogma, the truth of God, does 
not leave us at liberty. It appeals to us, and we are bound to 



/ 



The True Emancipator. 545 

open our minds to let into our intelligence the truth of God. 
Any man who refuses it commits a sin. We are not at liberty 
to refuse it. The law appeals to us, we are not at liberty to 
disobey it. The quintessence of civil freedom lies in obeying the 
law ; the quintessence of religious freedom lies in acknowledging 
the truth. 

And now, my friends, this being the case, I ask you what 
greater injustice can you do to a man than to give him that lib- 
erty, that unlimited freedom, without first telling him his rights, 
defining his rights, establishing those rights by law, and without 
teaching that man that he must respect the law that protects 
him, that he must move within the sphere or circle of his rights, 
and content himself in this ? What greater injustice can you do 
to society or to a man himself, than to give him freedom with- 
out defining what his rights are? In other words, is not the 
gift of liberty itself a misnomer? Is it not simply an absurdity 
to say to a man, ''You are free !" when that man does not know 
what is meant by the word freedom ? Look at the history of 
emancipation, and will you not find this to be the case ? The 
States have emancipated just as the Church has emancipated ; 
but with this difference — that the Church prepared the slave 
before she gave him freedom ; taught him his rights, taught him 
his responsibilities, taught him his duties; and then, taking the 
chains off his hands, said: "You are a free man. Respect your 
rights, move in the sphere of your duties, and bow down before 
the law that has made you free." The State has not said this. 
A few years ago England emancipated the black population of 
Jamaica; a sweeping emancipation. The negroes were not pre- 
pared for it, they did not understand it. What was the first use 
they made of their liberty ? The first use that they made of 
their liberty was to fling aside the hoe, the sickle, the spade, 
every implement of labor, and sit down idly, to famish and 
starve in the land. 

Now, amongst the duties of man, defined by every law, the 
first duty is labor — work. The only respectable man in this 
world is the man who works. The idler is not a respectable 
man. If he were seated upon great Caesar's throne, and there he 
would be an idler, I would have no respect, but only contempt for 
him. This was the first use that the negro population of Jamaica 
made of their freedom. What was the consequence ? That their 

35 



546 



TJie CatJwlic Church 



state to-day, after many years of emancipation, is one of absolute 
miser}^ ; whilst, during the time they were slaves they were living 
in comparative comfort. Because, small as the circle of their rights 
was, strictly defined as it was, still it had its duties : they knew 
their duties ; they knew the law ; they were protected in the 
exercise of their duties ; and the consequence was they were a 
thriving people. Look to the Southern States of this Union. 
You have emancipated your negro population with one sweeping 
act of emancipation. I need not tell you that by so doing (I 
do not wish to speak politics ; I do not wish to enter upon this 
question in anyway that would be, perhaps, insolent in a stranger 
— but this I do say) — that in that sweeping emancipation, though 
you did what the world may call a grand and a glorious thing, 
you know well, gentlemen, how many you deprived of the very 
means of subsistence by it, and what misery and poverty you 
brought upon many families by it, and how completely, for a 
time, you shattered the framework of society by it. Have you 
benefited the slave population by it? — by this gift of freedom — 
a glorious gift, a grand gift, provided that the man who receives 
it knows what it is; provided the man who receives it is pre 
pared to receive it, and use it as he ought. But, either to the 
white man or the colored man the gift of freedom is a fatal gift 
unless he knows how to use it. Did you prepare these men for 
that freedom before you gave it to them ? Did you tell them 
that they should be as laborious as they were in slavery? that 
labor was the first duty of every man ? Did you tell them that 
they were to respect the rights of their fellow-men, to whom, 
slaves yesterday, they are made equals to-day? Did you tell 
them that they were not to indulge in vain, idle dreams of 
becoming a privileged class in the land — governors and rulers of 
their fellow-men, to whom the law only made them constitution- 
ally and politically equal ? Did you tell them that they were 
not to attempt instantly, forcibly, to overstep certain barriers 
that the God of nature set between them ; but that they were 
to respect the race that manumitted and emancipated them? 
I fear you did not. I have had evidence of it. What use have 
they made of this gift of freedom ? Ah ! children as they were, 
though grown into the fullness of material manhood — children 
as they Avere, without education, without knowledge — what use 
could they make of their freedom ! What use do you and I 



TJie Trite Emancipator. 



547 



make of our freedom? — we who are born free, we whose educa- 
tion and everything surrounding us, from our infancy, all tend 
to make us respect and use well that freedom. Is there that 
purity, that self-respect, that manly restraint over a man's pas- 
sions — is there that assertion of the dominion of the soul over 
the inferior nature stamped upon the Christian society and the 
white society of the world to-day, that would lead them to 
imagine that it is so easy for a poor child of slavery to enter 
into the fullness of his freedom ? I fear not. Well, my friends, 
still they are there before us. The dreams of the political econ- 
omist will not teach them to use their freedom. The vain, 
ambitious, and, I will add, impious purposes and theories pro- 
pounded by those who would insinuate that the colored man 
Avas emancipated for the purpose of a commingling of races, will 
not teach them to use their freedom. The ambitious hopes held 
out of ascendancy before them will not teach them to use their 
freedom. The political parties that would make use of them for 
their own ends will never teach them to use their freedom. You 
have emancipated them ; and I deny that they are free. I say 
that they are slaves. You have emancipated them. Tell me, 
what religious freedom have you given them ? You have put 
an open Bible into the hand of a man who only learned to read 
yesterday, and you have told him, with bitter sarcasm, to go 
and find the truth of God in a book that has puzzled the greatest 
and wisest of the earth's philosophers. You have sent him in 
search of religion in a book that has been quoted by ever}/^ false 
teacher from the day that it was written, by prostituting that 
sacred inspired word, and twisting it to lend a color to his argu- 
ments. You have sent teachers to them, teachers who began 
their lesson, began their teaching, by declaring that, after they 
had labored all day, they might have been mistaken all through ; 
and that they had no fixed, immutable truths to give to the 
poor emancipated mind. You know it. What religious free- 
dom have you given them ? Have you touched their hearts 
with grace ? You have given them, indeed, forms of religion, 
which you boast are suited to them, because you allow these 
over-grown, simple children to bellow and to cry out what 
seems to be the word of praise and of faith. Ah, my friends, 
it is not this corporeal exercise that will purify their hearts, 
strengthen their souls, subdue their passions, and make them, 



548 



TJie CatJioIic CJuircJi 



first of all. respect themselves, and then respect their fellow- 
citizens of the land. You have emancipated them, but you 
have not freed them. They shall be free only in the day when 
these poor darkened intelligences shall have been led into the 
full light of God's knowledge, and Avhen the strong animal pas- 
sions of a race that, from whatever cause it be, seems to have 
more of the animal than many other races of mankind ; when 
their strong passions are subdued, their hearts purified, their 
souls cleansed, graces received to be prized and to be retained — 
then, and only then, will you have emancipated the negro. You 
have not done it as yet. But it is the Church's work to do it. 
It is her mission and her duty. She knows that He who came 
and died upon the cross, died not only for you, but for these 
children of the mid-day sun. She knows that every soul of 
these colored people is as dear to the heart of God as the 
proudest and the best, the most learned and the most refined 
amongst you. She knows that if she can only make a truly 
faithful Catholic Christian out of the humblest of these children 
of the desert, that she will have made something more noble — 
grander and greater — than the best among you, if you be sin- 
ners ; and she. therefore, sends to them her clerg}^ her conse- 
crated children — priests and nuns. She says to the noblest and 
best in the land : " Arise, go forth from house and home, from 
father and friends; go, seek a strange land and strange people ; 
go in amongst them ; go, seek the toil and the burning heat and 
the burden of the day ; go, seek the man whom many men 
despise ; kneel down at his feet and offer him Jesus Christ." 
We have been told by a high authority that this is an act of 
justice which England offers — an act of reparation which 
Catholic England offers to America ; for, great as has been the 
crisis of the late war, the slavery which Avas in x^merica — the 
highest ecclesiastical authority in England tells us, sanctioned 
by the voice of history — has not been your creation, my xA.mer- 
ican friends : it was England's creation. It Avas forced upon 
you ; and from having begun it became a necessity. And there- 
fore England to-day sends her children ; and they come with 
humility, but with earnestness and zeal, and they say to you — 
to you. Catholics — to you, many amongst you — perhaps a vast 
majority amongst you — of Irish parentage or Irish descert — she 
says to you. " Children of a faithful nation, children of a race 



TJie True Emancipator, 



549 



that has always been intellectual enough to recognize the one 
truth, keen enough to know its value, energetic enough to grasp 
it with a firm hand — lovers as you have been of freedom, wor- 
shippers at the shrine of your religious and your national 
liberty — she asks you, children of a race of doctors, of martyrs, 
of apostles, to lend a helping hand to the Catholic Church to- 
day, and to aid her to emancipate truly those who have obtained 
only freedom in name, and to complete that work which can only 
be done by a touch of the hand' of Jesus Christ." 

Your presence here this evening expresses your sympathy 
with the high and noble purpose that has brought these children, 
the consecrated ones of the Church of God, to this country ; 
and they appeal to you, through me — and they have a right to 
appeal to you, through me, and I have a right to speak to you 
in this cause of freedom ; for, my brethren, I wear the habit of 
the venerable and holy Bartholomew Las Casas, the first Domin- 
ican that ever landed in America, in the very train of Christo- 
pher Columbus himself — the first man that raised his voice to 
proclaim for the poor Indian the birthright of that higher free- 
dom that consists in the knowledge and the grace of Jesus 
Christ. We only ask you to help us to diffuse that knowledge 
and that grace — that knowledge which is the freedom of the 
intellect — that grace which is the freedom of the will, and 
v.'ithout which double freedom there is no emancipation ; 
for the chains may fall from the hand, but the chain is still 
rivetted upon the soul. Freedom is a sacred thing ; but 
like every sacred thing, it must be seated in the soul of man. 
Bodily freedom is as nothing unless the soul be emancipated 
by the Holy Church of God. Your presence here this evening 
attests your sympathy w^ith this great work ; and, O my friends, 
as you have contributed materially, I ask you to contribute also 
intellectually and spiritually — intellectually, by the sympathy of 
your intelligence with the labor of those holy priests, and 
spiritually, by praying to God, Who came to emancipate the 
world, that He might make perfect the weak and inefficient 
action of mankind and of the State, by pouring forth His spirit 
of light and grace amongst these poor children and strangers 
who are in the land. 



CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 



[Lecture delivered in the Cathedral, Newark, N. J,, on Monday evening, June 3d, 
1872, in aid of the Hospital, in charge of the Sisters of the Poor,] 

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. 

EAR FRIENDS :— Amongst the many proofs that the 
CathoHc Church offers to the world of her truth and of 
her divine mission, one of the strongest — though an 
indirect proof, still one of the strongest — is the spirit 
of charity and mercy that is organized within her. It had been 
prophesied of the spouse of old, that the Lord God had organ- 
ized charity in her {Ordinavit in ine caritateiii). It had been 
foretold by Christ our Lord, and emphatically, that the attribute 
of charity — of mercy — was to be the countersign of His elect. 
It was therefore fitting that the Church, which was the spouse 
of Jesus Christ, should have an organized charity and mercy 
within her, and that they should shine forth on her hands, as 
the countersign of her election, who was destined to be the 
mother of all the elect of God. Therefore it is, that at all 
times, charity, taking the form of mercy, has been found vivid 
and true in the Catholic Church ; and that charity which beams 
forth in her comes before us, when we contemplate her, with all 
the attributes of Divine beauty which we find in the charity of 
Jesus Christ Himself. You know that I am come before you 
this evening to speak to you of the attributes of Christian char- 
ity. It is not so much of the necessity of charity that I wish to 
speak, but it is of the attributes of charity. I need not speak to 




Christian Charity, 



551 



you of the necessity of being charitable and merciful. Your 
presence here this evening attests sufficiently to me that you 
recognize the necessity of charity. But that you may know 
what that Divine charity is Avhich is in the Church, and which 
takes the form of mercy, I will endeavor to describe to you 
some of its attributes ; and I will begin by asking you, in the 
language of Scripture, to consider and to recognize what form 
of charity it is that the Father in heaven bestowed upon us, 
whereby we also were to be called — and were to be — the sons 
of God. That form of the Father's love is Christ Jesus our 
Lord ; for as Christ Himself says, " God so loved the world as 
to give his only begotten Son." Behold the Father's gift ! If 
you would know therefore, what are the true attributes, and 
what the real beauties of charity, you must consider charity as 
it exists in our Divine Lord Himself. Then shall you see what 
are the attributes of Christian charity. Therefore the Evangel- 
ist said, Behold what manner of charity the Father hath be- 
stowed upon us, that we should be called and should be the 
sons of God." 

Well, first of all, my dear friends, certain it is that although 
faith be absolutely necessary to salvation, and although we are 
saved by hope ; yet neither faith nor hope will bear us into our 
everlasting happiness and joy hereafter, unless we possess char- 
ity, which manifests itself in mercy to the poor. By this," 
says our Divine Lord, " shall all men know that ye are my dis- 
ciples, if you love one another ;'/ and if any man says he 
loveth God, and loveth not his neighbor, the truth is not in 
him." But elsewhere the same Evangelist tells us that he 
that hath the substance of this world, and shall see his brother 
in need, and shall shut up his bowels from him, how doth the 
charity of God abide in him." Therefore, the sign by which we 
shall know whether the essential charity is in us, is the manifes- 
tation of this Divine principle in works of mercy. The prophet 
said, I will espouse thee to me in faith, in justice, in judg- 
ment, and in mercy, and in commiserations." So much for the 
necessity of charity. No man can be saved without it. No 
man can say he is the son of God unless the countersign of 
mercy be upon him. No man can pass into heaven unless he 
opens the golden gates of that heaven to himself with the key 
of mercy. It will be the crucial test whereby you shall be found 



552 



Christian Charity. 



deserving of eternal glory, that the countersign of mercy be on 
your forehead, and the works of charity in your hands. 

What manner of charity do we find in our Lord Jesus Christ ? 
What are the attributes of His charity? I answer, principally 
four. First of all, the charity in Christ was a constant and 
abiding charity ; secondly, it was compassionate and tender 
■ — a most loving charity ; thirdly, it was active and efficacious 
— a working charity; fourthly, it was universal, embracing 
all and touching all with the same loving hand — a Catholic 
charity. Consider these four in Christ before we come to 
look upon them in the charity organized in His holy Church. 
First, my friends, the charity of our Divine Lord was constant. 
It was love that brought Him down from heaven ; it was mercy 
that kept Him upon the earth for thirty-three years ; it was 
mercy that nailed Him to the cross. He came down from 
heaven to redeem the fallen race of man. He devoted Himself 
wholly to that work of redemption. No other thought ever 
entered into the mind of our Lord ; no other motive pressed 
Him to action — save the one<thought, the one motive of mercy. 
It was His daily action. When He spoke it was the mercy 
of light given to man ; when He healed their sick, it was still the 
mercy His all-powerful touch brought upon them. Thirty-three 
years He remained upon earth. W^as that necessary for man's 
salvation ? No ! But it was necessary that Christ should have 
a time to pour forth His infinite mercy in His daily actions on 
the people. They came to Him at all times. When He was 
at meat they rushed in to Him, just as Mary Magdalene rushed 
to His feet as He sat at table. They came to Him at the time 
when He was supposed to take His rest, just as Nicodemus 
came " at the midnight hour." They pressed upon Him, so 
that St. Mark says they did not even give Him time to eat 
bread — to eat His meals. And did He ever refuse Himself to 
them? Did He ever turn away from them and say, this is not 
the time or the place for you to seek Me?" Did He ever show 
the slightest inconstancy or uncertainty in His mercy? No! 
No matter who came to Him, or at what time or place, or under 
Y\-hat circumstances. He was always equal to Himself. That 
charity, that mercy with which He met them was the business 
of his life, until the people came to count with absolute certainty 
upon the abiding constancy of His love, and came to Him with 



Christian Charity. 



553 



their sick and their bhnd and their palsied and their dead, per- 
fectly certain that His charity and mercy would go forth from 
Him, because, in truth, that was the very life of God ; this love 
which was not an exceptional or occasional work with Him 
• — not merely the recreation of an hour — it was ihe business of 
His life ; it was His very life itself He brought to the work 
of mercy the infinite constancy of God. 

Not only, however, was the charity of Christ constant ; but 
it was also a most tender and compassionate form of love. 
Dearly beloved brethren, here it is that we get a glimpse into 
the inner heart of our Lord. Here it is that we contemplate 
the virtue of charity, of mercy, in Him. Here it is that we see 
the infinite compassion and tenderness of His most loving 
heart. He invariably surrounds each act of His mercy with 
every sweetest attribute of tenderness and love. For instance, 
when upon the mountain. He had five thousand people around 
Him, and He resolved to feed them ; but, before He multiplied 
the bread. He turned to His disciples and said: " I have com- 
passion upon this multitude, and I will not send them away 
fasting, lest they might faint by the way ; for lo ! they have re- 
mained with me three days." Not content with feeding them, 
He prefaces the action of mercy with the expression of com- 
passion, giving vent, as it were, to the strong feeling of a loving 
heart. Again, when He was approaching the city of Naim, a 
funeral procession came forth ; a young man — the only son of 
a widow — who had lost him in her old age ; and now, with dis- 
hevelled hair and streaming eyes and with the loud outcry of 
despair, she mourned that the staff of her life w^as gone, and 
the hope and joy of her old age taken from her, as she followed 
her only child to the grave. But the moment her voice fell 
upon the Saviour's ear — the moment He saw her, He was 
touched with pity. The fountains of His great, glorious, lov- 
ing heart were moved within Him : and He goes to the woman 
and lays His hand upon her shoulder, and says to her in ac- 
cents of thrilling love : " Woman, weep no more." He dries the 
mother's tears, and then, turning to the man on the bier, He 
says, ''Young man, I say unto thee, arise." And the evangelist 
tells us, that when the young man arose, our Lord took him in 
His hands and gave him to his mother — placed him upon her 
bosom, and then stood by and feasted His great compassion 



554 



Christian Charity. 



and the tenderness of His love on the happiness of that meet- 
ing. Such was the heart of Jesus Christ. 

On another occasion, He comes to Bethany. Lazarus was 
dead four days, and in his grave, when the Master appeared. 
And they went into the house and told Mary the Magdalen 
that the Master was come, and she rushed out and flung 
herself heart-broken at His feet — exclaiming; ''Lord, if Thou 
hadst been here, my brother never would have died ! " When 
He looked down and saw this woman w^eeping — the great 
sobs bursting from her breast in the agony of grief, Jesus also 
wept. Tears came from His eyes and fell upon the head of 
Mary from the fountain of that Divine love and compassion. 
There is nothing more touching in all Scripture than those words 
" and Jesus wept." The very Jews who stood around were 
amazed to see the compassion of the Man. They were not used 
to such tenderness, and they said to one another, " Behold I how 
much He loved him." Such was the heart of Jesus Christ. He 
used to heal the wounded feelings of the afflicted, as well as to 
relieve them : and entered into all their wants and minis- 
tered to them ; whilst He ministered with so much love that the 
manner in which He relieved was almost greater than the relief 
itself. Thirdly, the charity of our Lord was a magnificent, real, 
active and efficacious charity. He did not love in word and 
tongue merely ; He loved in deed and truth. He does not con- 
tent Himself with saying, I have compassion on the multi- 
tude ;" but He puts His hand into the basket and takes the 
bread and breaks it, and multiplies it, and gives it unto them 
until every one is filled. He does not content Himself with 
saying to the widowed mother, " Weep no more ;" but He gives 
her a reason to cease her weeping, for He raises her son from 
the dead and puts him upon her bosom. He does not content 
Himself^with weeping over the Magdalen and saying to her, " I 
am the Resurrection and the Life ;" but the next moment sees 
Him at the tomb of Lazarus, and the silence of the grave hears 
a voice — " Lazarus, come forth" — and Lazarus did come forth 
out of his grave ; and He gave him -unto his sisters. His was a 
mercy that never tired ; a mercy that met every form of misery, 
for it was not only constant and gentle and compassionate, effi- 
cacious and active, but it was also catholic and universal. Every 
form of misery which came before Him was met by Him. Now, 



CJiristiaii Charity. 



we find Him opening the eyes of the blind ; again, we find Him 
lifting up the helpless and the lame ; again, He is cleansing the 
leper or raising the dead : at another time confounding the pride 
of the Pharisees, by the example of His humility ; at another 
time — the greatest work of all — when He received the sinner with 
all her sins upon her, and in these words, Thy sins are forgiven," 
He sent her forth pure as an angel before the throne of God. 

These are the four principal attributes of that charity which 
existed in the heart of Jesus Christ. When Christ our Lord 
established His Church, He expressly declares to us that He 
founded her in all strength, in all beauty, in all holiness and 
truth. He expressly declares to us that whatever He had He 
gave to His Church ; that whatever He was His Church was to 
be. It has been written of that Church, Thou wast made 
exceeding beautiful, because of My beauty which I put upon 
thee," saith the Lord. Christ we find fulfilling this when He 
said to His disciples, all power in Heaven and on Earth is given 
to Me ; and now I say to you, as the Father sent Me so do I 
send you ; as I am the true light that enlighteneth all that come 
into the world, so are ye sent to spread that light ; and the 
gates of hell shall never prevail against that Church ; as I am 
the Omnipotent of God, having power to forgive sins, so I say 
to you, whose sins you shall forgive shall be forgiven them. 

But amongst the many gifts He bestowed upon His Church, 
He gave her that charity and mercy which we have just seen 
was so perfect in the heart of our Lord. Therefore, as St. Paul 
tells us, Christ loved His Church, and gave His life that He 
might present her to Himself perfect, beautiful, glorious, not 
having spot, wrinkle, stain, or any such thing, but all perfect in 
her supernatural beauty ; and so, fitted to be the spouse of 
Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Amongst these beauties was the 
beauty of charity, like His own — because it is written, I will 
espouse thee to me in faith, in justice, in judgment, and in 
mercy and commiseration." How, therefore, can mercy and 
charity not be a distinctive of that Church which was to be the 
Bride of Christ. So, therefore, when we go back to her history, 
we must find upon her records that attribute of charity like to 
His. Do we find it? Oh, my dear friends, mercy and charity 
were unknown to the world until Jesus Christ founded His 
Church — mercy and charity were unknown to the world. The 



556 



Christian Charity. 



world had benevolence ; the record of the world's history tells 
us of many acts of grand benevolence performed, now and then, 
by the Pagans of old ; we are told of many instances in which 
they showed tenderness of heart and commiseration, and of 
many in which they were generous and self-sacrificing in their 
efforts to befriend their fellow-men. Remember all these are 
fair and beautiful adornments of the natural character of man. 
But they are not supernatural ; they are not divine, nor are they 
the mercy which Jesus Christ shall require of the soul which 
enters into the kingdom of His bliss. Why ! Because, my be- 
loved, the charity of which Jesus Christ our Lord speaks, is a 
charity which must spring from faith and be animated by 
hope ; which must spring from faith, because, as the Apostle 
says, And now there remain to you faith, hope, and charity, 
these three : but the greatest of these is charity." Unless faith 
be there, pointing out the way of all our charity, it may be gen- 
tleness, it may be kindness of heart, it may be what you will ; 
but it is not Christian charity. What does faith tell us to guide 
our charity? Our faith tells us that we are bound to minister 
to Jesus Christ, our Lord; — to do homage to Him, no matter in 
what disguise or form we find Him. Our faith teaches us that 
blessed are they that minister unto Him, for they shall be min- 
istered unto by Him. 

Now, where shall we find Him, so that our miinistration shall 
reach Him ? In Heaven He commands our adoration ; but we 
cannot minister to Him in our mercy. In the blessed Eucharist 
He commands purity of soul, a fervent approach, adoration ; 
but we cannot minister to Him in our mercy. There is one 
form — one and only one — in which Christ our Lord presents 
Himself so that He becomes an object of mercy, and that is 
when He disguises Himself in the form of the poor and needy ; 
and then I say unto you, blessed is he that understandeth con- 
cerning the needy and the poor," for inasmuch as ye have done 
it unto one of these little ones ye have done it unto Him. And 
in the day of judgment He shall say to the souls of the just : " I 
was hungry and ye broke your bread and gave Me to eat ; I was 
naked and ye clothed Me ; I was sick and ye lifted up My head 
and visited Me." And when the just shall say,- Where, oh 
Lord i did we see Thee hungry and feed Thee, or poor and re- 
lieved Thee?" Then the Lord shall say to the soul of the just 



Christian Charity. 



557 



one : Dost thou recognize these? " " Oh, yes, Lord ! I know 
them. I saw them on earth famishing, dying, sick, and in 
their misery." Then He will say : " I swear to you that what-- 
soever you did to these, you did it to Me." 

Behold, then, what faith teaches us. Faith establishes this 
principle — that in serving the poor we minister unto Jesus 
Christ — that in ministering to the poor we are working out our 
own salvation, for our salvation depends on our service to Jesus 
Christ. What does our hope tell us concerning this w^ork of 
mercy? Our hope tells us that every promise that Almighty 
God has made of future glory and bliss to man, is all bound up 
with the condition of mercy. What do you hope for ? Pardon 
for your sins ; the highest mercy of God. God tells us in the 
Scripture, Redeem your sins by alms and your iniquity by 
works of mercy to the poor." Do you look forward to eternal 
light and glory? Isaias says, Deal thy bread to the hungry 
and bring the needy and the harborless into thy house. Wlien 
thou seest one naked, cover him ; and despise not thine own 
flesh. Then shall thy light break forth in the darkness ; and 
thy justice shall go before thy face, and the Lord shall fill thy 
soul with brightness and give thee rest continually." What 
wonder, then, that when the very point to which every Chris- 
tian man is tending — namely the moment of judgment, comes 
before our eyes — when every Christian man is asking himself. 
Shall I pass through that golden gate, into the inner glory of 
God, or shall I be cast away into the flames of hell forever ? ' 
the angel of mercy should appear to decide the great question, 
and to open or close forever. Oh, awful moment ! Oh, fearful 
question ! Yet, in the moment when our fate shall hang in that 
balance which lies before us all ; which no man can escape ; in 
that terrible ordeal which every man amongst us must pass 
through, our Lord will say, " Show Me your mercy. You wish 
to pass into My glory : show Me how you have purchased it by 
works of mercy to the poor. I was hungry and you gave Me 
not to eat ; thirsty and you gave Me 7iot to drink ; sick and you 
would not visit Me nor comfort Me ; for, as often as you have 
refused this unto the poor you have refused it unto Me. 
Depart now, thou accursed, unto everlasting flames." Oh ! how 
sacred is the exercise of that charity and mercy, the mo- 
ment we see it through the eyes of faith and hope ; and unless 



558 



Christian Charity, 



it is thus seen through the eyes of faith and hope, it may be 
a human virtue, but it is not the divine virtue of charity. 

Now this virtue, exalted and divine, do we find in the very 
first days of the Church. She alone could create this charity of 
which I speak. And why ? Because she alone has the knowl- 
edge of Jesus Christ — she alone can recognize Him — she alone 
has the commission to preach His word and to evangelize His 
name unto the nations — she alone has the treasure surpassing all 
others, of His own divine presence in her bosom. Therefore, 
she alone can create the virtue which acknowledges the claims of 
Him in the poor, and strains to serve Him through them. From 
the first days of the Church's existence do we find that mercy 
shining upon her. During the first three hundred years of the 
Church's existence, when to be a Catholic meant to be sentenced 
to death ; when Christians were obliged to hide in the catacombs 
and caves of the earth — for to show themselves was to accept 
instant destruction — even then, the record of the Church tells 
us, whenever some great Roman was converted, or whenever 
some great family of Rome received the light, the very first 
thing they did — the first impulse of their new religion — was to 
call an auction and dispose of everything that they had ; and 
then, when the money was lying before them in great heaps of 
gold and silver, to call in the poor and distribute it all to them. 
When St. Laurence was in his dungeon awaiting death, they 
told the Roman governor that he was a deacon of the Christian 
Church, and held all the immense riches which it was whispered 
that they had hidden. They lied in that day about the priests 
of the Church just as we hear their lies now, when they say that 
we priests are always trying to get the people's money. When 
the governor heard this, he called his prisoner and said to him. 

Tell me. Is it true that this Christian Church to which you 
belong possesses such great treasures ? " " Perfectly true." 

Then," he said, " I will give you your life on one condition : 
that you bring all the treasures of that Church and hand them 
to me." St. Laurence went out and gathered all the blind and 
the lame and the wretched and the poor and the sick, and 
brought them all, hundreds of them, before the palace-gate, so 
that when the governor came down, anxious to gloat over the 
stores of gold and silver and precious stones which he looked 
for, he saw only this multitude. And when he asked St. Lau- 



Christian CJiarity. 



559 



rence where was this treasure, the deacon answered, " Behold I 
These, O Pr^tor, are the treasures, and the only treasures of 
the Church of Jesus Christ." In her alone we find charity 
organized in a constant form. 

o 

You have seen that mercy was the life of Christ — not an oc- 
casional thing with him, but the duty and business of every day 
of His life — the only thing for which He lived. Where, except 
in the Catholic Church, do you find lives consecrated — from 
youth to age consecrated — to the one Avork of mercy? Outside 
of the Catholic Church you find a great deal of benevolence, 
kindness of heart, good nature, a great deal of compassion and 
gentleness for the poor. But there is this difference. No one, 
except in the Catholic Church, has this mercy and charity ap- 
pointed to her as the business and purpose of her life, the sole 
object of her existence, the sign and seal of her union with 
Jesus Christ. The Protestant lady who wishes to visit the sick 
takes her basket upon her arm, puts a bottle of wine in it, and 
whatever else she deems necessary, and goes on her errand. She 
does a good thing, a holy thing ; yet, remember, she will do it 
to-day — but to-morrow ? To-morrow it may rain, and the 
delicate lady will stay at home. She will do it to-day — she is 
in a good humor — in the vein of piety ; but, to-morrow, she may 
have a sick headache and not feel like it ; or, perhaps, yester- 
day, some whom she visited seemed to her ungrateful ; or, per- 
haps, they were dirty ; and so she has given it up ; or she may 
have household duties, or visits to pay, and of course she can- 
not be expected to give her wdiole time to the poor. But, 
cross the threshold of the Catholic Church. The moment you 
have passed it, the very first figure you see is that of the Sister of 
Charity, or the Sister of Mercy, or the Sister of the Poor. You ask 
w^ho these are, and he answers : " These are ladies — many of them 
ladies of birth — ladies of the most refined mind — of the most 
cultivated and highly educated intelligence — ladies, as you per- 
ceive by their demeanor, by their walk — ladies, who had all the 
pleasures and joys of life before them ; but, at fifteen or six- 
teen years of age, consecrated themselves to the Church. They 
brought to that Church their purity, their virtue, their nobility 
of intellect, their refinement of manner, brought everything to 
the Church and said, I want to consecrate all these to 
the service of God." The Church of God says, " Are you will- 



560 



Christian Charity. 



ing to devote your whole life, for I won't accept it for a day, or 
a year?" And they answered, ''Yes." Then the Church 
says, " Go into a convent, fast and pray ; satisfy me of your 
heroic virtue ; and, when I am satisfied that you are one of 
God's elect — most holy ones — then, and then only, you may go 
into the hospital, or the orphanage, or the workhouse, there to 
sit down for the rest of your lives, at the feet of the poor." To 
the Sisters of Mercy and the Sisters of Charity she says, 
" Take the sick, nurse them, perform for them every most 
menial office, be their servants, be their slaves, their attendants, 
their nurses, every day until the end of your life ; but I will not 
give you the mission of honor until you have first consecrated 
yourselves to God." And in that consecration the Church 
warns them : "Remember, no matter how hideous the disease — 
no matter how revolting the form of infirmity, no matter how 
certain the contagion and death you bring upon yourself, you 
must sw^ear to me, at the foot of my altar, that no form of 
disease, danger, or contagion^ — no sacrifice of your own feelings 
or tastes — shall ever keep you for one instant from your post of 
labor." This is charity, as it is in the Church. We can rely 
upon it, we can lean upon it, as they leaned upon the Divine 
mercy and charity of Jesus Christ, for it is constant. Consider 
the thousands that are growing into the maturity of their age 
under these vows, in these ministrations. Consider the thou- 
sands of consecrated ones in the Church who are ripening into 
that old age which brings reverence and the silver hair. For 
all these there is no thought but mercy. All their hopes for 
life and eternity are bound up in the sick and the poor. More- 
over, the charity which manifests itself in the Church is like to 
that of our Divine Lord in its tenderness and gentleness. How 
could the Church be other than gentle, tender, loving, and com- 
passionate in her mercy, seeing what the motive is ; she recog- 
nizes the Lord in the poor, and therefore, in ministering to them, 
ministers as if it were to Jesus Christ. 

My dear friends, when the world deals out its help to the 
poor, it deals it with a grudging and imperious hand. When 
the political economist, or the statesman, make up their minds 
to build a county-house, or place of refuge for the poor, they 
make it as like a jail as possible. The poor man is brought in 
and made to feel that he is a pauper. He is made almost to 



Christian Charity. 



561 



forget his name, for he takes his number ; he is known only by 
that. He receives his subsistence, and, under the poor-law sys- 
tem in England and Ireland, the same class of clothing as the 
convicts — the same pattern. If he be a married man, he is sep- 
arated from his wife ; if he be a father, he is separated from his 
children ; — yes, even the mother is separated from her children, 
who are taken from her and put into the children's ward, num- 
bered and ticketed as a man would ticket cattle. So, whilst 
their life is prolonged, they have the pauper's rag to cover them, 
and the pauper's morsel to keep life in them ; but their feelings 
are crushed, and they are made to feel that they are dependent 
on the charity of a world which longs for the time when all will 
be over. Oh ! the suffering, the feeling of utter degradation 
that must come over the man or woman who is obliged to have 
recourse to its assistance, knowing that those who minister to 
them are waiting with impatience for the time to come when 
the parish will be relieved of a pauper, when a pauper's coffin 
shall enshrine him, and he shall be borne to a pauper's grave! 
No hope, no solace, no tenderness, no sympathy; the heart is 
broken while the life is prolonged. Well do I remember many 
instances of such a state of feeling of our people with regard to 
this system. I remember once being called to assist in Dublin 
a woman who was dying. I climbed up to the wretched garret, 
and found her lying upon the bare floor, with not even a little 
straw under her head, and no covering save the rags she was 
accustomed to wear and walk about in. The woman was past 
seventy years of age, and, in her youth, had been well educated, 
of respectable parents, and in comfortable — almost wealthy — 
circumstances. Her children had dropped off, or emigrated, 
one by one, until, at last, this old woman was left alone ; and I 
found her lying there, with fever in her veins, dying of starva- 
tion and hunger. She was not able to speak to me when I en- 
tered, and I had to lie down on the floor to receive her confes- 
sion. So utter was her destitution, that I protest I had to go 
out and look amongst the neighbors to get a cup of water to 
wet her lips. Seeing her in such suffering, and finding myself 
unable to relieve her, I ventured to suggest to her, You have 
no one to take care of you, and you are dying; would it not be 
better to let me have you taken to the workhouse hospital ?" 
She looked at me, nor will I ever forget that look. " I sent for 

3^ 



562 



CJiristian Charity. 



a priest, and, great God," she said, "has he no consolation to 
offer me but this! No, father, take back that word!" I was 
obliged to take it back, and to beg her pardon for having used 
it. No ; I can die here of hunger, without being degraded." 

Now, pass again into the Catholic Church. She selects the 
best, the tenderest, the purest, the holiest of her children, and 
gives them the mission to minister to the poor. The gentlest 
hand ; the heart filled with the tenderness of virgin love for 
Jesus Christ ; the heart that has never been contracted by one 
voluntary emotion of self-love ; those who are, of all others, 
most calculated to condole whilst relieving; to bind up the 
wounds of the heart whilst they raise the languid head. If you 
or I to-morrow were stricken down and afflicted, from what lips 
should we wish to hear the words of consolation and of hope, 
but from the lips of the consecrated ones of Jesus Christ? Where 
could we find a hand more fitted to wipe away the tear upon 
our faces than the hand locked in the spiritual nuptial of Jesus 
Christ ? If we wanted to lean upon the sympathy and love of 
a fellow-creature, where will we find a heart more capable of 
relieving that want than the heart that is empty of all love, save 
the one love of Jesus Christ? Oh! my dear friends, you have 
only to go into any House of Mercy or of Charity, or any 
hospital, or to the Sisters of the Poor, to find this true Christian 
mercy. Never will I forget, some few years ago, when I was on 
the mission in Manchester, I went out to see the public build- 
ings, and found amongst them a house of the Little Sisters of 
the Poor. They took in aged people who suffered from in- 
curable diseases ; those who were stricken down and unable to 
labor, or even to beg for themselves. These — abandoned by 
all — these, the Little Sisters of the Poor lifted out from their 
wretched hovels, and brought into their house and hospital ; and 
there they kept them, surrounding them, so far as they could, 
with all the comforts of home, and making them as happy as 
possible. Then they went out in the morning through the 
crowded streets of that great city, and begged a morsel of bread 
for themselves and the aged ; and they broke their bread, and 
divided it with the poor. There was one of these nuns — an 
English lady — who had been a grand lady of the world — whom 
I had known as such ; splendid in her beauty and her accom- 
plishments ; grand in her family ; surrounded with the worship 



Christian Charity. 



563 



of the society in which she moved, and over which she reigned 
as a queen ; but in the day that she became a Catholic she gave 
herself to God, and became a Little Sister of the Poor; and I 
found her here ministering around them and nursing them. 
There was one old man amongst them, an Irishman, over eighty 
years old ; his head, with its silver hair, bowed down with age, 
and his mind returning to the memories of his youth, and those 
he loved, long since departed. I spoke to him ; and he said to 
me, "Ah, friar, when I was young, and had a family of my own, 
I had once a daughter — my colleen I God took her from me, 
and she died in her youth. I buried her in the grave. I was 
dying and starving when she " (he pointed to the young lady), 

my colleen, came out of her grave. She took me in her arms, 
and brought me here." The Little Sister heard him, and she 
spoke to me, and said, "What does he say? He is always 
repeating those words." And I was obliged to tell her. " He 
says that you are his darling, his joy, the light of his eyes, his 
own colleen, come back from the grave." 

You will see, accordingly, that it is the Catholic Church 
which invests its mercy with the infinite tenderness that can 
only exist in the heart consecrated to God. With the gentle- 
ness that is born of true nobility, with all holy, pure, and re- 4 
fining influences, does she surround her sick. 

Again, charity in the Church of God, like charity in Jesus 
Christ, is efficacious. It is a hard-working, ever-toiling charity. 
It has gone on for nearly two thousand years, and it has not out- 
grown itself yet, nor is it tired. Charity, hke that of Him who 
said, " My Father worketh even now, and I work." The Church 
labors with a charity that never knov/s old age ; and she will be 
just the same, until the last day, as she has been at any time 
for the past two thousand years. The world complains of hei 
importunity. These Sisters come among you every day ; bring- 
ing home the sick, and appealing to you to give them the means 
of supporting those sick, and healing them. You may say, 
"They are always troubling us; always bothering; always 
coming to us in business hours, for money." Oh, yes ! it is so ; 
and so they will come. But, consider, if you please, that which 
is to you but the paying of a single visit, is to them the business 
of their lives. Consider, if it be troublesome for you to put 
your hand into your pocket, or your till, and give a dolla'i 



564 



Christian Charity. 



once or twice, perhaps, in a year, how much more trouble- 
some it is for these poor creatures, who must go out every day 
of their Hves ; for, until the last day of the world's existence, 
the energy of the Church — the hand of the Church, which they 
are — will be as fervent and strong, and as energetic as it was 
in the days of the Church, when the hand of God was fresh 
upon her ; because she comes from God. 

Finally, the work of mercy with God is universal, and so it is 
with the Church. Every form of human misery, every form of 
human suffering finds its remedy prepared in the Catholic 
Church, and in her alone. The father and the mother die, and 
the poor orphan child is left alone, the most helpless of all God's 
creatures. The orphan sends forth its wail of misery, and from 
that voice of the child not yet able to speak, the Almighty God 
hears the complaint ; as the prophet of old said : " Father and 
mother have abandoned me, but thou, oh Lord, art the Father 
of orphans." There is no organization ready to receive it. 
There is no system of organized charity to take the place of 
father and mother. The world makes no contribution for their 
support. But the Sister of Charity, or the Sister of Mercy 
comes and takes that little infant upon her virgin bosom, to her 
home, most like to the Virgin Mother as she bore the Infant 
from Bethlehem. What will be the fate of this child ; having 
no mother or father, or a drunken, dissolute father, who neg- 
lects him, and the poor pre-occupied mother, who cannot care 
for or control him, he rushes out into the streets, and so amongst 
the sights and sounds of everything vile, he grows towards the 
time when his heart will respond to the first call of passion, and 
neither mind nor heart have received the instruction which will 
enable him to guide or control his passions. Who will save 
that young soul from the pollution of the world's example? that 
young heart from the destruction of sin ? The Christian Brother 
comes ; the consecrated nun comes. He is taken from those 
poisonous streets, where the very atmosphere is filled Avith cor- 
ruption, and brought into the house of God ; there his young 
eye is taught to look upon the beauty of Jesus and Mary, and 
his tongue becomes accustomed to the language of faith, until 
educated — a Christian man — he is enabled to take his place in 
society, to become the blessing to the nation, and the glory and 
pride of the Church of God. The young girl who has received 



Christian Charity. 



565 



the fatal dower of beauty ; the young maiden, the perfect image 
of all that should be most pure, and immaculate, and innocent ; 
the young maiden, breathing around her the fragrance and 
aroma of her virtue, in the judgment of God more sinned 
against than sinning ; driven — forced into the paths of destruc- 
tion, by the vile, relentless, accursed action of some demon that 
meets her, gives herself up to sin; and, now, because she was 
the best of earth's children, she becomes the worst ; because 
she was the purest, she becomes the most abandoned ; the in- 
voluntary glance at her is sin ; the very voluntary thought of 
her flashing across the mind is sin ; the air she breathes she 
converts into sin ; the touch of her hand is pollution ; the ap- 
proach to her is destruction and the curse of God. But, touched 
by divine grace, she turns, as Magdalen turned to Jesus Christ, 
and coming to the confessional of the Catholic Church, she 
lifts up her despairing hands and voice, and cries out, ''Can 
there be mercy for one so abandoned ; can there be purity for 
one so defiled as I ?" All that the world can do for her is what 
the Pharisees did when they gathered up their robes and said, 
"Depart from me; touch me not, for I am pure:" and well 
would it be for the world if it had so much grace as to say this. 
No, there is no remedy for her — no hand can touch her without 
pollution, save one, and that is the hand of the Church. There 
was only One in all the world to whom the Magdalen could 
come without defiling him ; and that was Jesus Christ. The 
Pharisees were right ; they could do nothing for her. But the 
moment she came to Him — the moment she touched His im- 
maculate flesh— the moment her first tear ftU upon the foot of 
Jesus Christ — the moment her lips touched it, that moment 
Michael, the Archangel, before the throne of God, was not 
purer than that woman. One power alone can meet the strick- 
en and abandoned one ; one hand alone can lift her weary 
head ; one hand alone can receive her tears, and that one hand 
the hand of Mary, the Virgin ; the only one that can touch the 
Magdalen, and in that touch purify. When the Magdalen 
arose, He sent her to His Blessed Virgin Mother, and she, the 
accepted one of God, the embodiment of all purity, took upon 
her sacred bosom and embraced the penitent. So it is in the 
Church. No matter what the form of misery, no matter what 
the form of wretchedness or sin, it finds its remedy awaiting 



566 



Christian Charity. 



it in the sanctifying power which God has given to His 
Church. 

Behold the four great attributes of Christian charity. Now, 
one word and I have done. This charity, that is constant, that 
is compassionate, that is efficacious, that is universal, this char- 
ity you must all make your own ; and if you do not make it 
your own, I can give you no promise of heaven. I can hold 
out no hope of God's everlasting mercy, unless you make that 
mercy and charity your own. You cannot make them your 
own by yourselves. You cannot devote yourselves constantly 
to the poor. Nay, more, you are not worthy to enter into the 
ministration directly and personally of the Church's mercy; you 
are not holy enough, you are not grand enough. There (point- 
ing to the Sisters who were present), there are the priestesses 
of the mercy of the Church of God. Fill their hands in pity, 
and receive them at all times as Abraham received the three 
angels of God ; at the door of his temple ; receive them as 
angels of God, for they are the angels of your soul, who will 
secure the attributes of mercy for you. Fill their hands, I 
charge you, that you may get credit before God ; that you may 
get credit for the constancy and the universality of their mercy. 
Then, when the day of your judgment comes, you shall be 
astonished, as the Scripture tells us, at the suddenness of your 
unexpected salvation ; you shall be astonished when you find 
that you have been clothing, helping, feeding, visiting Jesus 
Christ all your life ; and every single act these nuns performed 
through you, and in your charity, and in your mercy, will be 
recorded as a crown of glory to rest upon your brows forever. 



THE IRISH PEOPLE IN THEIR RE- 
LATION TO CATHOLICITY. 



[Delivered in St. Bridget's Church, New York, on Thursday evening, June 6th, 1872.] 

Y FRIENDS: the subject on which I have the 
honor to address you this evening is one of the 
most interesting that can occupy your attention or 
mine. It is 

CHRISTIANITY, OR THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION AS REFLECTED 
IN THE NATIONAL CHARACTER OF THE IRISH RACE AND 
PEOPLE. 

I say this subject is interesting, for nothing that can offer 
itself to the consideration of the thoughtful mind, or to the 
philosopher, can possibly be more interesting than the study of 
the character and the genius of a people. It is the grandest 
question of a human kind that could occupy the attention of a 
man. The whole race comes under a mental review; the history 
of that race is to be ascertained ; the antecedents of that 
people have to be studied in order to account for the national 
character, as it represents itself to-day amongst the nations of 
the earth ! Every nation, every people under heaven, has its 
own peculiar national character. The nation — the race — is made 
up of thousands and millions of individual men and women. 
Whatever the individual is, that the nation is found to be in 
the aggregate. Whatever influences the individual was sub- 
jected to in forming his character, establishing a certain tone of 
thought, certain sympathies, antipathies, likings or dislikings ; 
whatever, I say, forms the individual character in all these par- 




568 



The Irish People in 



ticulars, the same forms the nation and the race, because the 
nation is but an assemblage of individuals. 

Now, I ask you, amongst all the influences that can be 
brought to bear upon the individual man, to form his character; 
to make him either good or bad ; to give tone to his thoughts ; 
to string his soul and to tune it ; to make him adhere to God 
or abandon him ; to produce all this which is called character — 
is it not perfectly true that the most powerful influence is 
that man's religion ? It is not so much his education ; for men 
may be equally educated — one just as well as the other — yet 
they may be different from each other as day from night. It is 
not so much his associations — for men may be in the same walk 
of life, men may be surrounded by the same circumstances of 
family, of antecedents, of wealth or poverty, as the case may 
be, yet may be as different as day and night. But when religion 
comes in and fills the mind with a certain knowledge ; fills the 
soul with certain principles ; elevates the man to a recognition 
and acknowledgment of certain truths ; imposes upon him cer- 
tain duties and the most sacred of all obligations, namely, the 
obligation of eternal salvation — when this principle comes in, 
it immediately forms the man's character, determines what man- 
ner of man he shall be, gives a moral tone tb the man's whole 
life. And so it is with nations. Amongst the influences that 
form a nation's character — that give to a people the stamp of 
their national and original individuality — the most potent of all 
is the nation's religion. If that religion be gloomy ; if it be a 
fatalistic doctrine, telling every man he was created to be 
damned, you at once induce upon the people or the nation that 
profess it a miserable, melancholy feeling that makes them go 
through life like some of our New England Calvinists, sniffling 
and sighing, and lifting up their eyes, telling everybody that if 
they look crooked, looking either to the right or the left, they 
will go to hell. You know the propensity of some people to be 
always damning one another. If, on the other hand, the religion 
be bright, if it open a glimpse of heaven, founded upon an 
intellectual principle ; if it lifts up a man's hopes ; tells him in 
all his adversities and his misfortunes to look up ; gives him a 
well-founded hope that the God that made him is waiting to 
crown him with glory, you will have a bright, cheerful brave, 
and courageous people. 



Their Relation to Catholicity. 



569 



Now, such a religion is the Christianity that Christ founded 
upon this earth. I assert, that if that religion of Christ be a 
true religion — as we know it to be — that there is not upon this 
earth a race whose national character has been so thoroughly 
moulded and formed by that divine religion as the Irish race, to 
which I belong. It is easy, my friends, to make assertions ; it 
is not so easy to prove them. I am not come here to-night to 
flatter you, or to make crude assertions ; but I am come here to 
lay down the principle which is just enunciated, and to prove it. 

What is the Christian character? What character does Chris- 
tianity form in a man ? What does it make of a man ? Men 
are born into this world more or less alike. It is true that the 
Chinaman has no bridge to his nose, and that his eyes turn in- 
wards, as if both were occupied watching where the bridge ought 
to be ; but that is an immaterial thing. Intellectually, and even 
morally, all men are mostly born alike. The world takes them 
in hand, and turns out a certain class of man equal to its own 
requirements, and tries to make him everything that it wants 
him to be. God also takes him in hand. God makes him to be 
not only what the world expects of him, but also what God 
and heaven expect of him. That is the difference between the 
two classes of men ; the man whose character is mostly worldly 
— who is not a Christian — and the man whose character is formed 
by the Divine religion of Christ. What does the world expect 
and try to make of the child ? Well, it will try to make him an 
honest man ; and this is a good thing ; the world says it is " the 
noblest work of God." Without going so far as to say this, I 
say that an honest man is very nearly the noblest work of God. 
The man who is equal to all his engagements ; the man who is 
not a thief or a robber (the world does not like that) ; the man 
who is commercially honest and fair in his dealings with his 
fellow-men — that is a valuable man. The world expects him 
to be an industrious man ; a man who minds his business, and 
tries, as we say in Ireland, to make a penny of money." That 
is a very good thing. I hope you will all attend to it. I shall 
be gladdened and delighted, if ever I should come to America 
again- — I will be overjoyed — to hear if any one comes to me and 
says in truth — " Why, Father Burke, all these Irishmen you saw 
in New York, when you were here before, have become wealthy, 
and are at the top of the wheel." Nothing could give me more 



570 



The Irish People in 



cheer. The world expects a man to be industrious and tem- 
perate; because if a man is not industrious, is not temperate, he 
never goes ahead : he does no good for society, his country, or 
anybody. Therefore, this is also a good thing. But when the 
world has made a truth-telling man, an honest man, an indus- 
trious and a temperate man, the world is satisfied. The world 
says : I have done enough ; that is all I want." The man 
makes a fortune, the man establishes a name, and the world at 
once — society around him — offer him the incense of their praise. 
They say : There was a splendid man. He left his mark upon 
society." And they come together and put in a subscription to 
erect a statue for him in the Central Park. But they have not 
made a Christian. All those are human virtues — excellent and 
necessary. Don't imagine that I want to say a word against 
them. They are necessary virtues. No man can be a true 
Christian unless he have them. But the Christian has a great 
deal more. He is perfectly distinctive in his character from the 
honest, truth-telling, thrifty, and temperate man that the world 
makes. The Christian character is founded upon all these 
human virtues, for it supposes them all, and then, when it has 
laid the foundation of all this — the foundation of nature — it 
follows up with the magnificent super-edifice of grace, and the 
Christian character is founded in man by the three virtues — 
faith, hope, and love. Therefore, St. Paul, speaking to the early 
Christians, said to them : Now, my friends and brethren, you 
are honest, you are sober, you are industrious, you have all 
these virtues, and I praise you for them ; but I tell you, " now 
there remain unto you faith, hope, and charity ; these three." 
For these three are the formation of the Christian character. 
Let us examine what these three virtues mean. First of alh, my 
friends, these three virtues are distinguished from all the human 
virtues in this : that the human virtues — honesty, sobriety, tem- 
perance, truthfulness, fidelity, and so on — establish a man in his 
proper relations, to his fellow-men and to himself. They have 
nothing to say to God directly, but only indirectly. If I am an 
honest man, it means that I pay my debts. To whom do I pay 
these debts? To the people I owe money to — to my butcher, 
my baker, my tailor, etc. ; I meet their bills and pay them. I 
owe no man anything, and people say I am an honest man ; 
that means that I have done my duty to my fellow-men. It is 



Their Relation to Catholicity. 



571 



no direct homage to God. It is only homage to God when that 
honesty springs from the supernatural and divine motive of 
faith. If I am a temperate man, it means, especially to the 
Irishman, that I am a loving father, a good husband, a good 
son. An Irishman is all this as long as he is temperate ; but 
remember that the wife, the child, the father, and the mother are 
not God. Temperance makes him all right in relation to him- 
self and his family around him. If I am a truth-telling man, the 
meaning is, I am " on the square," as they say, with my neigh- 
bors; but my neighbors are not God. But the moment I am 
actuated by faith, hope, and charity, that moment I am elevated 
towards God. My faith tells me there is a God. If that God 
has spoken to me, that God has told me things which I cannot 
understand and yet I am bound to believe. Faith is the virtue 
that realizes Almighty God and all the things of God as they 
are known by divine revelation. 

There are two worlds — the visible and the invisible ; the 
world that we see, and the world we do not see. The world 
that we see is our native country, our families, our friends, our 
business, our stores, our ships, our bales of cotton, our churches, 
our Sunday for amusement, our pleasant evenings, and so on. 
All these things make up the visible world that we see. But 
there is another world, that " eye hath not seen, ear hath not 
heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive," 
and that world is the world revealed to us by faith. It is far 
more real, far more lasting, far more substantial than the visible 
world. We say in the Creed, I believe in God, the Father Al- 
mighty, Creator of all things, visible and invisible." Now, in 
that invisible world, first of all, is the God that created and 
redeemed us. We have not seen Him, yet we know that He 
exists. In that invisible world are the angels and saints. We 
have not seen them, yet we know they exist. In that invisible 
world are all the friends that we loved who have been taken 
from us by the hand of death ; those, the very sound of whose 
name brings the tear to our eyes and the prayer of suffrage to 
our lips. We see them no longer; but we know that they still 
live in that invisible world that " eye hath not seen ;" and, 
therefore, we are ^' not unmindful of our dead, like others who 
have no hope." Now, the virtue of faith, in the Christian char- 
acter, is the power that God gives, by divine grace to a man to 



572 



TJie Irish People hi 



realize that invisible world, to realize it so that He makes it 
more substantial to him than the world around him ; that he 
realizes more about it, and is more interested in it, and almost 
knows more about it, than the world around him. The virtue 
of faith is that power of God by which a man is enabled to 
realize the invisible, for the object of faith is invisible. Our 
Lord says to Thomas, the Apostle, ^' Because thou hast seen 
thou hast believed ; blessed are they that have not seen and 
have believed." 

This is the first feature of the Christian character — the power 
of realizing the unseen, the power of knowing it, the power of' 
feeling it, the power of substantiating it to the soul and to the 
mind ; until, out of that substantiation of the invisible, comes 
the engrossing, ardent desire of a man to make that invisible 
surround him by its influences in time, that he may enjoy its 
possession in eternity. This is faith. Consequently, the man 
of faith, in addition to being honest, industrious, temperate, 
truthful, and having all these human virtues, is a firm believer. 
It costs him no effort to believe in a mystery because he cannot 
comprehend it, because he has never seen it. He knows it is 
true ; he admits that truth ; he stakes his own life upon the 
issue of that divine truth which he has apprehended by the act 
of the intelligence, and not by the senses. 

The next great feature of the Christian character, is the vir- 
tue of hope. The Christian man is confident in his hope. God 
has made certain promises. God has said, that neither in this 
world, nor in the world to come, will he abandon the just man. 
He may try him with poverty ; He may try him with sickness ; 
He may demand whatever sacrifice He will ; but He never will 
abandon him. Thus saith the Lord. Now, the virtue of hope 
is that which enables the Christian man to rest with perfect 
security, with unfailing, undying confidence, in every promise 
of God, as long as the man himself fulfills the conditions of 
these promises. The consequence is, that the Christian man, 
by virtue of this hope that is in him, is lifted up beyond all the 
miseries and sorrows of this world, and he looks upon them all 
in their true light. If poverty comes upon him, he remembers 
the poverty of Jesus Christ, and he says, in his hope, " Well, the 
Lord passed through the ways of poverty into the rest of His 
glory ; so shall I rest as He did, I hope for it." If sickness or 



Their Relation to Catholicity. 



573 



sorrow come upon him, he looks upon the trials and sorro\rs of 
our Lord, and unites his own sorrows to those of the Son of 
God. If difficulties rise in his path, he never despairs in him- 
self, for he has the promise of God that these difficulties are only 
trials sent by God, and, sooner or later, he will triumph over 
them ; perhaps in time, but certainly in eternity. 

Finally, the third great feature of the Christian character is 
the virtue of love. It is the active virtue that is in a man, 
forcing him to love his God, to be faithful to his God ; to love 
his religion, to be faithful to that religion, and quick, zealous, 
and self-sacrificing in promoting its influence and its glory ; to 
love his neighbor as he loves himself ; especially to love those 
who have the first claim upon him ; the father and mother that 
bore him, to whom he is bound to give honor, as well as love ; 
then the wife of his bosom, and the children that God has given 
him, to whom he is bound to give support and sustenance, as 
well as love ; his very enemies — he must have no enemy — no 
personal desire for revenge at all ; but, if there be a good cause, 
he must defend that cause, even though he smite his enemy — 
the enemy not of him, personally, but of his cause ; but always 
be ready to show mercy and to exhibit love, even to his enemies. 
This is the Christian man ; how different from the mere man of 
the world ! The Christian man's faith acknowledges the claims 
of God ; his hope strains after God ; his love lays hold of God ; 
he makes God his own. 

Now, my friends, this being the Christian character, I ask 
you to consider the second part of my proposition, namely, 
that the Irish people have received especial grace from God ; 
that no people upon the face of the earth have been so thoroughly 
formed into their national character as the Irish, by the divine 
principles of the Holy Catholic religion of Jesus Christ. 

How are we to know the national character? Well, my 
friends, we have two great clues or means of knowing. First of 
all, we have the past history of- our race, and the tale that it 
tells us. Secondly, we have our observation of the men of to-day 
(wherever the Irishman exists), wherever they assemble together 
and form society — and the tale that that society tells us to-day. 

Let us first consider briefly the past of our nation, of our race, 
and then we will consider the Irishman of to-day. Let us con- 
sider the past of our history as a race, as a nation, the history 



574 



TJie Irish People in 



of faith, hope, and love for God ? Is it pre-eminently such a 
history? Is it such a history of Christianity, faith, hope, and 
love that no other nation on the face of the earth can equal it ? 
If so, I have proved my proposition. Now, exactly one thou- 
sand and sixty years before America was discovered by Colum- 
bus, Patrick the Apostle landed in Ireland. The nation to which 
he came was a most ancient race ; derived from one of the pri- 
meval races that peopled the earth — from the great Phoenician 
family of the East. They landed in the remote mists of pre- 
historic times upon a green isle in the Western ocean. They 
peopled it ; they colonized it, they established laws, they opened 
schools ; they had their philosophy, their learning, their science 
and art, equal, probably, to that of any other civilization of the 
day. They were a people well-known, in their Pagan days, to 
the ancient Egyptians and the ancient Greeks. The name of 
the island — the name by which we call it to-day — Erin, was only 
a name that came after the more ancient name. For, by the 
Greeks and the people of old, hundreds of years before the birth 
of Christ, our Ireland was called by the name of Ogygia, or " the 
most ancient land." It was spoken of by the most remote authors 
of antiquity ; the most ancient Greek writers and other authors 
now extant spoke of Ireland as the far-distant ocean island ; 
spoke of it as a place of wonderful beauty, as a place of ineffa- 
ble charm ; spoke of it as something like that high Elysium of 
the poet's dream, an island rising out of the sea, the fairest 
and most beautiful of all the sea's productions. 

We know that our ancestors at a most remote period received 
another colony from Spain. We know that the Milesians 
landed in an island they called Innisfail, their land of destiny." 
We know that they came from the fair Southern sunny land, 
bringing with them high valor, mighty hope, generous aspira- 
tions, and an advanced degree of civilization ; and the original 
inhabitants of Ireland intermingled their race with the Milesians. 
In that intermingling was formed the Celtic constitution which 
divided Ireland into four kingdoms, all united under a high 
monarch and universal king (i\rd-righ) — the High King of Ire- 
land. The palace of Ireland's king, as fitting, was built almost 
in the centre of the island, two miles from the fatal Boyne. 
The traveller comes through a beautiful, undulated land towards 
the hill-top, rich in verdure, abundant and fruitful, crowned 



TJicii' Relation to Catholicity. 



575 



with lovely wood on every side. It is the plain of " royal 
Meath." He arrives at the foot of the hill — the summit of that 
hill for centuries was crowned with the palace of Ireland's 
kings. It was called in the language of the people Tara" — 
the place of the kings. There, on Easter Sunday morning, in 
the year 432, early in the fifth century of the Christian era, a 
most singular sight presented itself. Ireland's monarch sat 
upon his throne, in high council ; around him were the sover- 
eign kings and chieftains of the nation; around him again in 
their ranks were the Pagan priests — the druids of the old fire- 
worship ; around him again, on either sides, on thrones, as if 
they were monarchs, sat the magnificent ancient minstrels of 
Ireland, with snow-white flowing beards — their harps upon their 
knees — filling all the air with the glorious melody of Ireland's 
music, while they poured out upon the wings of song the time- 
honored story of Ireland's heroes and her glorious kings. Sud- 
denly a shadow fell upon the threshold, a man appeared — with 
mitre on head, cope on shoulders, and a crozier in his hand, with 
the cross of Christ upon it. And this was Patrick, Avho came 
from Rome, to preach Christianity to the Irish kings, chieftains, 
and people. They received him as became a civilized and en- 
lightened people. They did not stand, like other nations, in a 
wild hubbub of barbarism, to denounce the truth, as soon as they 
heard it, and to put the truth-teller and the messenger to death ; 
but they sat down — these kings, these minstrels, these judges 
of the land — these most learned philosophers — they disputed 
with Patrick ; they brought the keen weapons of human 
wisdom and of human intellect to bear against that sword Avhich 
he wielded. Oh I it was the sword of the spirit — the Avord of 
God — the Lord Jesus Christ. And when, at length, that king 
and chieftains, all these druids and bards, found that Patrick 
preached a reasonable religion ; that Patrick proved his religion 
and brought conviction unto their minds ; up rose at length 
the head of all the bards, and of Ireland's minstrels — the man 
next in authority to the king — the sainted Dubhac, the Arch- 
minstrel of the royal monarch of Tara — up rose this man in the 
might of his intellect, in the glory of his voice and his presence, 
and lifting up his harp in his hand he said : Hear me, oh 
high kincr and chieftains of the land ! I now declare that this 
man, who comes to us, speaks from God — that he brings a mes- 



576 



TJie Irish People vi 



sage from God. I bow before Patrick's God. He is the true 
God, and as long as I live this harp of mine shall never sound 
again save to the praises of Christianity and its God." And 
the king and chieftains and bards and warriors and judges and 
people alike rose promptly ; and never in the history of the 
world — never was there a people that so embraced the light and 
took it into their minds, took into their hearts and put into their 
blood the light of Christianity and its grace, as Ireland did in 
the day of her conversion. She did not ask her Apostle to shed 
one tear of sorrow. She rose up, put her hands in his, like a 
friend ; took the message from his lips, surrounded him with 
honor and the popular veneration of all the people : and before 
he died, he received the singular grace — distinct from all other 
saints — that he alone, among all the other Apostles that ever 
preached the gospel, found a people entirely Pagan and left 
them entirely Christian. 

And now began that wonderful agency of Christian faith, 
Christian hope, and Christian love, which I claim to have 
formed the national character of my race as revealed in their 
history. They took the faith from Patrick ; they rose at once 
into the full perfection of that divine faith. They became a 
nation of priests, bishops, monks, and nuns, in the very day of 
the first dawning of their Christianity. The very men whom 
Patrick ordained priests, and w^hom he consecrated bishops, 
were the men whom he found Pagans in the land to which he 
preached Christianity; the very women whom he consecrated 
to the divine service — putting veils upon their heads — the very 
Avomen that rose at once under his hand to be the light and 
glory of Ireland — as Ireland's womanhood has been from that 
day to this — were the maidens and mothers of the Irish race, 
who first heard the name of Jesus Christ from the lips of St. 
Patrick. 

Well, I need not tell you the thrice-told tale how the epoch 
of our national history seems to run in cycles of three hundred 
years. For three hundred years after Patrick preached the Gos- 
pel, Ireland was the holiest, most learned, most enlightened, 
most glorious country in Christendom. From all the ends of 
the earth students came to study in those Irish schools ; they 
came, not by thousands, but by tens of thousands. They 
brought back to every nation in Europe the wondrous tale of 



Their Relation to CatJiolicity, 



Ireland's sanctity, of Ireland's glory, of Ireland's peace, of 
Ireland's melody, of the holiness of her people, and the devo- 
tion of her priesthood, the immaculate purity and wonderful 
beauty of the womanhood of Ireland. 

After these three hundred years passed away began the first 
great effort which proved that Catholic faith was the true es- 
sence of the Irish character. The Danes invaded Ireland, and 
for three hundred long years, every year saw fresh arrivals ; 
fresh armies poured in upon the land ; and for three hundred 
years Ireland was challenged to fight in defence of her faith, 
and to prove to the world, that until the Irish race and the Irish 
character were utterly destroyed, that this Catholic faith never 
would cease to exist in the land. The nation — for, thank God, 
in that day we were a nation I — the nation drew the nation's 
sword. Brightly it flashed from that scabbard where it had 
rested for three hundred years in Christian peace and holiness. 
Brightly did it flash from that scabbard in the day that the 
Dane landed in Ireland, and the Celt crossed swords with him 
for country, for fatherland, and, much more, for the altar, for 
religion, and for God. The fight went on. Every valley in the 
land tells its tale. There are many amongst us Avho, like myself, 
have been born and educated in the old country. What is more 
common, my friends, than to see what is called the old rath," 
or mound, sometimes in the middle of the field, sometimes on 
the borders of a bog, sometimes on the hill-side, to see a great: 
mound raised up. The people will tell you that is a rath," andl 
Ireland is full of them. Do you know what that means ? When 
the day of the battle was over, Avhen the Danes were conquered,, 
and their bodies were strewn in thousands on the field, the Irish 
gathered them together, and made a big hole into which they 
put them, and heaped them up into a great mound, covered, 
them with earth, and dug scraws or sods and covered them. In 
every quarter of the land are they found. What do they tell ? 
They tell this, that until the day of judgment, until when all the 
sons of men shall be in the Valley of Jehosophat, no man Avill be 
able to tell of the thousands and the tens of thousands and the 
hundreds of thousands of Danish invaders that came to Ireland 
only to find a place for a grave I Ah, gracious God I that we could 
say the same of every invader that ever polluted the virgin soil 
of Erin ! Well did Brian Boroimhe know how many inches of 

37 



578 



The Irish People in 



Irish land it took to make a grave for the Dane. Well did the 
heroic king of Meath — perhaps a greater character than even 
Brian himself, Malachi the Second, of whom the poet says — he 
"wore the collar of gold which he won from the proud invader" 
— a man who with his own hand slew three of the kings and 
leaders and warriors of the Danish army — well did he know 
how many feet of Irish soil it took to bury a Dane. For, in the 
Valley of Glenamana, in Wicklow, on a June morning, he found 
them, and he poured down from the hill-tops with his Gaelic 
and Celtic army upon them. Before the sun set over the 
Western ocean to America (then undiscovered) there were six 
thousand Danes stretched dead in the valley. Well, my friends, 
three hundred years of war passed away. Do you know what 
it means? Can you realize it to yourselves? There is no nation 
upon the face of the earth that has not been ruined by war ; 
you had only four years of war here in America and you 
know how much evil it did. Just fancy three hundred years of 
war ! War in every county, every province, every valley of the 
land, war everywhere for three hundred years ! The Irishman 
had to sleep with a drawn sword under his pillow, the hilt ready 
to his hand, and ready to spring up at a moment's warning, for 
the honor of his v/ife, for the honor of his daughter, and the 
peace of his household, and the sacred altar of Christ. And, 
yet, at the end of three hundred years, two things survived. 
Ireland's Catholic faith was as fresh as it ever was ; and Ire- 
land's music and minstrelsy was as luxuriant and flourishing in 
the land as if the whole time had been a time of peace. How 
grand a type is he of the faith and genius of our people, how 
magnificent a type of the Irish character, a man of eighty-three 
years of age, mounted on his noble horse, clad in his grand armor, 
with a battle-axe in one uplifted hand, and the crucifix in the 
other — the heroic figure of Brian Boroimhe, as he comes out on 
the pages of Irish history and stands before us, animating his 
Irish army at Clontarf, telling who it was that died for them, 
and who it was they were to fight for. Before the evening sun 
set, Ireland — like the man who shakes a reptile off his hand- 
shook from her Christian bosom that Danish army into the sea, 
.and destroyed them. Yet O'Brien, the immortal monarch and 
King of Ireland, was as skilled with the harp as he was with the 
.battle-axe ; and as in the rush and heat of the battle, no man 



TJicir Relation to Catholicity. 



579 



stood before him and lived — that terrible mace came down upon 
him, and sent him either to heaven or hell — so in the halls of 
Kincora, upon the banks of the Shannon, when all the minstrels 
of Ireland gathered together to discuss the ancient melodies of 
the lai d, there was no hand amongst them that could bring out 
the thrill of the gold or silver cords with such skill as the aged 
hand of the man who was so terrible on the battlefield — a Chris- 
tian warrior and minstrel — the very type of the Irish character 
was that man that, after three hundred years of incessant war, 
led the Irish forces upon the field of Clontarf, from which they 
swept the Danes into the sea. 

Then came another three hundred years of invasion, and Ire- 
land again fights for her nationality — until the sixteenth cen- 
tury, just three hundred years ago — and then she was told that 
after fighting for nearly four hundred years for her nationality, 
she must begin and fight again, not only for that, but for her 
altar and her ancient faith. The Danes came back, they came 
to Ireland with the cry, Down with the cross — down with the 
altar! " Harry the Eighth came to Ireland, with the same cry ; 
but the cross and the altar are up to-day in Ireland, and Harry 
the Eighth, I am greatly afraid, is — down. 

Three hundred long years of incessant war, with four hundred 
years before of incessant war, making the Irish people one 
thousand years engaged in actual warfare — seven hundred 
years with the Saxon and three hundred years before that with 
the Dane. Where is the nation upon the face of the earth that 
has fought for one thousand years ? Why, one would imagine 
that they should all be swept away! How, in the world, did they 
stand it ? We have been fighting a thousand years ? — the battle 
begun by our forefathers has been continued down — well, down 
to the year before last. The sword of Ireland, that was drawn 
a thousand years ago, at the beginning of the ninth century, 
still remains out of the scabbard, and has not been sheathed down 
to the end of the nineteenth century. Did ever anybody hear 
the like ? And yet, here we are, glory be to God ! Here we 
are as fresh and hearty as Brian Boroimhe on the morning of 
Clontarf, or as Hugh O'Neil was at the Yellow Ford, or as 
Owen Roe O'Neill was at the field of Benburb, or as Patrick 
Si.rsfield was in the trenches of Limerick, or as Robert Emmett 
in the dock at Green street. 



58o 



The Irish People hi 



Now, my friends, let me ask you — what did the Irish people 
fight for, for six hundred years ? For three hundred years they 
fought with the Dane ; for three hundred years they fought 
with England. The Danes invaded and desolated the whole 
land ; the English, three times since Harry the Eighth — taking it 
down to the present — landed in Ireland and spread destruction 
and desolation upon it. This Irish people fought for six hun- 
dred years ; what did they fight for? They fought for six hun- 
dred years for something they had never seen : they never saw 
Christ, in the blessed Eucharist, because He was hidden from 
them under the sacrameiital veils of bread and wine ; they never 
saw the mother of the God of heaven ; they never saw the 
saints and angels of heaven ; they never saw the Saviour upon 
the cross : and yet, for that Christ on the cross, for the Saviour 
in the tabernacle, and for the Mother of Purity in heaven, and the 
angels and saints, they fought these six hundred years. They 
shed their blood until every acre of land in Ireland was red with 
the blood of the Irishman, that was shed for his religion and for 
his God. What does this prove? Does it not prove that beyond 
all other races and nations, the Irish character was able to 
realize the Unseen and so to substantiate the things of faith as to 
make them of far greater importance than liberty, than property, 
than land, than education, than life? For any man who goes 
out and says, " I am ready to give up every inch of land I pos- 
sess ; I am ready to go into exile ; I am ready to be sold as a 
slave in Barbadoes ; I am ready to be trampled under foot or to 
die for Jesus Christ, who is present here, though I never saw 
Him ;" — that man is pre-eminently a man of faith. The Irish 
nation for six hundred years answered the Saxon and the Dane 
thus: We will fight until we die for our God who is upon our 
altars. Now, I ask you to find amongst the nations of the 
earth any one nation that was ever asked to suffer confiscation 
and robbery and exile and death for their faith, and who did 
it, like one man, for six hundred years? When you have 
found that nation, when you are able to say to me — such a 
people did that, and such another people did that, and to 
prove it to me, I will give up what I have said — namely, that 
the Irish are the most Christian in character and in their faith 
of any people in the world. As soon as you are able to prove 
to me that any other people ever stood so much for their faith 



Their Relation to Catholicity. 



581 



I stand corrected ; but until you prove it, I hold that the Irish 
people and race are the most Catholic on the face of the earth. 

Now, my friends, if I want any proof of the Irish faculty of 
realizing the unseen, why, my goodness, we are always at it. 
The Irish child, as soon as he arrives at the age of reason, has 
an innate faculty of realizing the unseen. When he comes out 
of the back-door and looks into the field, he imagines he sees a 
fairy in every bush. If he sees a butterfly upon a stalk in the 
field, he thinks it is a LeprecJiawii. I remember, when a boy 
growing up, studying Latin, having made up my mind to be a 
priest — I was a grown lad ; and yet there was a certain old 
archway in Bowling Green, in Galway, to which there was 
attached a tradition ; I know there are some here that will 
remember it. It was near the place where Lynch, the Mayor, 
hanged his son, hundreds of years ago ; near the Protestant 
churchyard also, and that gave it a bad name. At any rate, 
grown as I was, learning Latin, knowing everything about the 
catechism, and having made up my mind to be a priest — I was 
never able to pass under that arch after nightfall without run- 
ning for dear life. This superstition, if you will — this Irish 
superstition — is at least a proof of the faculty of realizing the 
unseen. Remember that, wherever superstition — especially of 
a spiritual character — exists, there is proof that there is a 
character formed to realize the unseen. 

Now, my friends, consider the next great impress of the Chris- 
tian character stamped upon the Irish people. The Apostle 
says we are saved by hope." The principle of hope imposes 
confidence in the divine promises of God, in the certainty of 
their fulfillment ; a confidence never shaken, that never loses 
itself, that never loosens its hold upon God, that never, for an 
instant, yields to depression or despair. I ask you if that virtue 
is found stamped upon our Irish character ? Tell me, first of all, 
as I wish to prove it, during this thousand years' fighting for 
Ireland, was there ever a day in the history of our nation when 
Ireland lost courage and struck her flag ? That flag was never 
pulled down ; it has been defeated on many a field ; it has been 
dragged in the dust, in the dust stained with the blood of Ire- 
land's best and most faithful sons; it has been washed in the 
accursed waters of the Boyne ; but never has the nation, for a 
single hour, hesitated to lift that prostrate banner, and fling it 



582 



The Irish People tii 



out to the breeze of heaven, and proclaim that Ireland was still 
full of hope. Scotland had as glorious a banner as ours. The 
Scotch banner was hauled down upon the plains of Culloden, 
and the Scots, chivalrous as their fathers were, never raised that 
flag to the mast-head again ; it has disappeared. It is no longer 
" England, Scotland, and Ireland," as it used to be ; it is 
Great Britain and Ireland." Why is it " Great Britain and 
Ireland ?" Why is it not simply Great Britain ?" Why is the 
sovereign called the Queen of Great Britain and Ireland ?" 
Because Ireland refused to give up her hope ; and never ac- 
knowledged that she was ever anything else except a nation. 
Well, my friends, it was that principle of hope that sustained 
our fathers during those thousand years they kept their faith. 
And the word of Scripture as recorded in the book of Tobias is 
this : when the Jews were banished into Babylonish captivity — 
men said to Tobias — to the man who was mindful of the 
Lord with all his heart, and when all ate of the meats of the 
Gentiles, he kept his soul, and never was defiled with their 
meats ;" men, I say, said to him, Where is thy hope ?" Tobias 
answered, Speak not so ; for we are the children of saints, and 
look for that life which God will give to those that never change 
their faith from him." This is the inspired language of Scrip- 
ture; and well the Irish knew it; and therefore, as long as Irish- 
men kept their faith to their God and their altar, so they wisely 
and very constantly refused to lay down their hope. The Chris- 
tian character is made up of hope as well as of faith and of love. 
If Ireland laid down her hope in despair, that high note of 
Christian character would never be in her. The Irish people 
never knew they were beaten. Year after year- — one day out 
and another day in — whilst the nations around were amazed at 
the tenacity of that people with two ideas — namely, that they 
were Catholic, and a Nation — Ireland never lost sight of her 
hope. What followed from this ? What was the consequence 
of this ? Enshrined in the national heart and in the national 
aims, there has been — wherever the Irishman exists — there has 
been the glory upon his head of the man whose courage, in the 
hour of danger, could be relied upon. Every nation in Europe 
has had a taste of what Ireland's courage is. They fought in 
the armies of Germany — in those Austrian .irmies, where ten 
thousand Irishmen, for thirty years, were every day encamped 



Their Relation to CatJiolicity. 



583 



in the field. They fought in the armies of Spain ; ten thousand 
Irishmen encamped in the field. They fought in the armies — 
once so glorious — of France, thirty thousand Irishmen with 
Patrick Sarsfield at their head. Did they ever turn their backs 
and run away? Never. At the battle of Ramillies, when the 
French were beaten, and they were flying before the English, 
the English, in the heat of their pursuit, met a division of the 
French army. Ah! that division was the Irish Brigade. They 
stopped them in the full tide of their victory, and they drove 
them back and took the colors out of their hands, and marched 
off after the French army. If any of you go to Europe, it will 
be worth your while to go to an old Flemish town called Ypres. 
In the cathedral you will see old time-worn flags and banners. 
If you will ask the sexton to explain these flags to you, he will 
com.e to one of these flags and say : That was the banner that 
the Irish took from the English in the very hour of their victory 
at Ramillies." King Louis was going to turn and fly at the 
battle of Fontenoy ; but Marshal Saxe told him to wait for five 
minutes until he should see more. Your majesty, don't be in 
such a hurry; wait a minute; it will be time enough to run 
away when the Irish run." Calling out to Lord Clare, he said, 

There are your men and there are the Saxons." The next 
moment there was a hurra heard over the field. In the Irish 
language they cried out — Remember Limerick and down with 
the Sassenach!" That column of Englishmen melted before 
the charge of the Irish, just as the snow melts in the ditch when 
the sun shines strongly upon it. When a man loses hope he 
loses courage ; he gives it up. It is a bad job," he says ; 
" there is no use going on any farther." But as long as he can 
keep his courage up, with the lion in his heart, so long you may 
be sure there is some grand principle of hope in him. Ours is a 
race that has almost " hoped against hope." I say that comes 
from our Catholic religion — the Catholic religion that tells us : 
You are down to-day — don't be afraid ; hold on ; lean upon 
your God. You will be up to-morrow." 

The third grand feature of the Christian is love ; a love both 
strong and tender ; a love that first finds its vent in God, with 
all of the energies of the spirit and the heart and soul going 
straight for God ; crushing aside whatever is in its path of the 
temptations of men ; and in faith and hope and love, making 



5^4 



The Irish People in 



straight for God. Trampling upon his passions, the man of love 
goes straight towards God ; and, in that journey to God, he 
will allow nothing to hinder him. No matter what sacrifice that 
God calls upon him to make, he is ready to make it ; for the 
principle of sacrifice is divine love. Most assuredly, never did 
her God call upon Erin for a sacrifice that Erin did not make it. 
God sent to Ireland the messenger of His wrath, the wretched 
Elizabeth. She called upon Ireland for Ireland's liberty and 
Ireland's land; and the people gave up both rather than forsake 
their God. God sent Ireland another curse in Oliver Cromwell — 
a man upon whom I would not lay an additional curse, for any 
consideration ; because for a man to lay an additional curse 
upon Oliver Cromwell would be like throwing an additional 
drop of water on a droAvned rat. Cromwell called upon the 
Irish people, and said, " Become Protestant and you will have 
your land ; you will have your possessions, your wealth. 
Remain Catholic, and take your choice — ' Hell, or Connaught.' " 
Ireland made the sacrifice; and, on the 25th day of May, 1651, 
every Catholic supposed to be in Ireland crossed the Shannon, 
and went into the wild wastes of Connaught rather than give up 
their faith. William of Orange came to Ireland ; and he called 
upon the Irish to renounce their faith or submit to a new perse- 
cution — new penal laws. Ireland said : " I will fight against 
injustice as long as I can ; but when the arm of the nation is 
paralyzed, and I can no longer wield the sword, one thing I will 
hold in spite of death and hell, and that is my most glorious 
Catholic faith." If they did not love their God Avould they 
have done this ? Would they have suffered this ? If they did 
not prize that faith, would they have preferred it to their liberty, 
their wealth, and their very lives ? No, no ! Patrick sent the 
love of God and the Virgin Mother deep into the hearts of the 
Irish; and in our Irish spirit, and in the blood of the nation, it 
has remained to this day. Wherever an Irishman, true to his 
country, true to his religion, exists, there do you find a lover of 
Jesus Christ and of Mary. 

More than this, their love for their neighbor shows this in 
three magnificent ways — the fidelity of the Irish husband to the 
Irish Avife, and the Irish son to the Irish father and mother, and 
of the Irish father to his children. Where is there a nation in 
whom those traits are more magnificently brought out ? Eng- 



Their Relation to Catholicity, 



585 



land told Ireland, a few years ago, that the Irish husbands 
might divorce their Irish wives. Nothing was heard from one 
end of the land to the other but a loud shout of a laugh. Oh, 
listen to that ! So a man can separate from his wife ! The 
curse of Cromwell on ye ! " England told the fathers of Ire- 
land that it was a felony to send their children to school. And 
yet never did the Irish fathers neglect that sacred duty of edu- 
cation. When it was found that a man was sending his chil- 
dren to school, he was liable to a fine and imprisonment. In 
spite of the imprisonment and the fine, the Irish people, who 
never have been serfs, refused to be the slaves of ignorance ; 
and Ireland was always an educated nation. In the worst day 
of our persecution — in the worst day of our misery — there was 
one man that was always respected in the land next to the 
priest ; and that was the poor scholar," with a few books 
under his arm, going from one farm-house to the other, with a 
" God save all here! " He got the best of the house, the best 
bed, the cosiest place in the straw-chair. And the children were 
all called in from the neiCThboring- houses and from the village. 
He could spend a week from one house to another. Every 
house in Ireland was turned into a school-house at one time or 
another. Hence, I have known men, old men of my own 
family, who remembered 1782. I have seen them, when a child, 
in their old age, and these men, brought up in those days of 
penal persecution and misery, with its enforced ignorance, were 
first-class controversialists. They knew how to read and write ; 
they knew Dr. Gallagher's sermons by heart. There was no 
Protestant bishop or Protestant minister in Ireland that could 
hold his ground five minutes before them. 

The nation's love, the people's love, for that which was next 
to their God — the very next — is the love of a man for his 
country Is there any land so loved as Ireland, by its people? 
Sarsfield, dying upon the plains of Landen, is only a fair type of 
the ordinary Irishman. There was many as good a man, as 
heroic a man, in the ranks of the Irish Brigade, that fell that 
day, as Sarsfield, who, in full career of victory, at the head of 
Lord Clare's dragoons, following the British army, as they fled 
from him ; William of Orange in their ranks, flying and showing 
the broad of his back to Sarsfield, as, sword in hand, gleaming 
like the sword of God's justice, the Irish hero was in full chase, 



586 



The Irish People in 



when a musket-ball struck him to the heart, and he fell dymg 
from his horse. The blood was welling out hot from his very 
hesrt ; he took the full of his hand of his heart's blood, and, 
raising his eyes to heaven, he cried : " Oh, that this was shed 
for Ireland ! " A true Irishman ! Where was the nation that 
was ever so loved ? In the three hundred years of persecution, 
take the Bhreathair," the old Irish Friar, the Dominicans, and 
Franciscans, who were of the first families of the land — the 
O'Neills, the Maguires, the McDonnells, the McDermotts ; down 
in Galway, the Frenches, the Lynches, the Blakes, and the 
Burkes. These fair youths used to be actually smuggled out by 
night, and sent off the coast of Ireland to Rome, to France, and 
to Spain, to study there. Enjoying all the delicious climates of 
those lovely countries, surrounded by honor, leading easy lives, 
filling the time with the study and intellectual pleasures of the 
priesthood, still every man felt uneasy. To use the old, familiar 
phrase, They were like a hen on a hot griddle," as long as they 
were away from Ireland, although they knew that in Ireland 
they were liable to be thrown into prison, or be subjected to 
death : during ages of persecution, if one fell in the ranks, 
another stepped into his place. Of six hundred Dominicans in 
Ireland, at the time of Queen Elizabeth, there were only four 
remained after she passed her mild hand over them. Where 
did they come from? From out of the love of Ireland, and the 
heart and the blood of her best sons. They would not be satis- 
fied with honors and dignities in other lands. No. Their hearts 
were hungry until they caught sight of the green soil, and stood 
amongst the shamrocks once more. 

And, now, I say to you — and all the history of our nation 
proves it— I say, that the Irish race to-day is not one bit unlike 
the race of two or three hundred years ago. We are the same 
people ; and why should we not be ? We have their blood ; we 
have their names ; their faith, their traditions, their love. I ask 
you, is not the Irishman of to-day a man of faith, hope, and 
love? Who built this beautiful church? Who erected this 
magnificent altar? Who made the place for Father Mooney's 
voice to resound, pleasantly tinged with the old Irish roll and 
brogue ? He has a little touch of it, and he is not ashamed of 
it. I remember once when a lady in England said tome, " The 
moment you spoke to me. Father, I at once perceived you were 



Their Relation to Catholicity. 



587 



an Irishman ; you have got what they call the brogue." ''Yes, 
madame," said I, my father had it, and my mother had it ; 
but my grandfather and grandmother did not have it, because 
they did not speak English at all. Yes," I said, " I have the 
brogue ; and I am full of hope that when my soul comes to 
heaven's gate, and I ask St. Peter to admit me, when he hears 
the touch of the brogue on my tongue he will let me in the 
more willingly." But, I asked, who built this church ? who has 
covered America with our glorious Catholic churches? All 
credit and honor to every Catholic race. All honor and credit 
to the Catholic Frenchman, and to the Catholic German. The 
Germans of this country — those brave men ; those sons of 
Catholics ; those descendants of ^he great Roman emperors that 
upheld for so many centuries the sceptre in defence of the altar, 
are worthy of their sires. They have done great things in this 
country; but, my friends, it is Ireland, after all, that has done 
the lion's share of the work. What brought the Irishman to 
Am^erica, so bright, so cheerful, so full of hope ? The undying 
hope that was in him ; the confidence that, wherever he went, 
as long as he was a true Catholic, and faithful to the traditions 
of the Church to which he belongs, and to the nation from which 
he sprang, that the hand of God would help him, and bring him 
up to the surface, sooner or later. And the Irishman of to-day, 
like his nation, is as hopeful as any man in the past time. 

Have we not a proof of their love ? Ah ! my friends, who is 
it that remembers the old father and mother at home ? AVho is 
it among the emigrants and strangers coming to this land, 
whose eye fills with the ready tear as soon as he hears the 
familiar voice reminding him of those long in their graves ? Who 
is it that is only waiting to earn his first ten dollars, in order to 
send it home to his aged father and mother? Who is it that 
would as soon think of cutting out his tongue from the roots, 
or to take the eyes out of his head, as abandon the wife of his 
bosom ? The true Catholic Irishman. These things are matters 
of observation and experience, just as the past is a matter 
of history. And, therefore, I say that Irishmen to-day are not un- 
worthy of the men that are in their graves, even though they lie 
in martyr graves. As we are true to them, so shall our children 
be true to us. As we were true to them, so we shall continue 
to be true to them. This is the secret of Ireland's power, the 



588 



The Irish People in 



faith that has never changed, the hope that never despairs, the 
love that is never extinguished ; dispersed and scattered as we 
are, that love that makes us all meet as brethren ; that love that 
brings the tear to the eye at the mention of the old soil ; that 
love that makes one little word of Irish ring like music in our 
ears ; that love that makes us treasure the traditions of our 
history ; that love makes us a power, still — and we are a power, 
though divided by three thousand miles of Atlantic ocean's 
waves rolling between America and Ireland at home — but 
the Irishman in America knows that his brother at home 
looks to him with hope ; and the Irishman in Ireland knows 
that his brother in America is only waiting to do what he 
can for the old land. What is it you can do? — that is 
the question. I answer, be true to your religion, be true 
to your fatherland, be true to your families and to your- 
selves, be true to the glorious Republic that opened her arms 
to receive you and give you the rights of citizenship. Be 
true to America. She has already had a sample of what kind 
of men she received when she opened her arms to the Irish. 
They gave her a taste of it at Fredericksburg, fighting her 
battles ; they gave her a sample of it all through those terrible 
campaigns ; she knows what they ar and begins to prize them. 
Fear not, when you do justice to your Irish brains and intellect 
by education, and to your Irish minds by temperance, and to 
your Irish hands by the spirit of industry and self-respect, your 
holy religion will do the rest, and uniting you like one man in 
faith, animating you in hope, inflaming your hearts in charity, 
will make you a mighty influence in this great land — be men ; 
even in this land, I say, be Irishmen. Then the day will come 
when this great Irish element in America will enter largely into 
the council-chambers of this mighty nation, and will shape her 
policy, will form her ideas and her thoughts in a great measure, 
pressing them in the strong mold of Catholicity and of justice. 
And v/hen that day comes to us, I would like to see who would 
lay a " wet finger " on Ireland. This is what I mean when I tell 
you what Ireland hopes from America. Ireland's bone and 
sinew is in America ; and it is in the intelligence of her children 
in America, in their religion and their love, in the influence 
which that faith and enlightenment will assuredly bring them, 
that Ireland hopes. 



Their Relation to Catholicity. 



589 



Suppose that for Ireland some coercion bill is going to pass, 
and some tyrant is going to trample upon the old nation. If 
the Irishman knows the position of his countrymen in America, 
he will say, Hold on, my friend ; don't begin until you get a 
dispatch from Washington. Hold on, my friend ; there are 
Irish Senators in the great Senate ; there are Irish Congressmen 
in the great Congress ; there are Irishmen in the Cabinet ; there 
are Irishmen behind the guns ; there are Irishmen writing out 
political warnings and protocols ; there are Irish Ambassadors 
at the foreign courts ; learn what they have to say before you 
trample upon us." This is what I mean when I speak of what 
you can do for your mother-land, and what Ireland hopes and 
expects from you. 

And now, my friends, you know that, whatever way a priest 
may begin his lecture, when he goes through it he always ends 
with a kind of exhortation. In the name of God let us make 
a resolution here to-night to be all that I have described to you 
— all an Irishman ought be — and leave the rest to God. 




THE CATHOLIC CHURCH THE TRUE 
REGENERATOR OF SOCIETY. 



[Delivered in the Church of the Immaculate Conception, Brooklyn, N. Y., on 
Sunday, May 26th, 1872.] 

Y FRIENDS : — The theme which I have chosen upon 
which to address you is " The Catholic Church the 
Only and True Regenerator of Society." The first 
thought that naturally comes to the mind is, that so- 
ciety must be sick, infirm, diseased — rotten, if you will — before 
it can require regeneration. Reflect to what things we apply 
this word, to regenerate. When a system which was once 
good has degenerated, and becomes bad, men say that it ought 
to be regenerated ; which means that it ought to be reformed. 
When a race becomes demoralized — when bad blood gets into 
it, to weaken the intellect and heart — when it seems to be 
fading away — it must be regenerated ; that is to say, it must 
get an infusion of fresh blood. So it is that we speak of society. 
When we speak of the regeneration of society, we must admit 
at once that this nature of ours, which composes human soci- 
ety, is a fallen nature. This must be taken for granted 
before we speak of that nature's regeneration. Therefore, 
before I come to the remedy, it is w^ell that I should seek to 
describe the disease ; just as when a physician is called in to 
attend a sick person, before he prescribes the remedy, before 
ever he writes the prescription, or tells the persons about him 
what they have to do, he inquires, " How is this? What are 
the patient's sufferings? What is his disease? " So, too, he ex- 
amines the symptoms; he asks the persons around him, " How 
long has he been sick? How long has he been ailing?" and so 




The Catholic Church the True Regenerator of Society. '^gi 



on, until he masters the disease. Then, and only then, can he 
see his way directly to an efficacious remedy. Well, my dear 
friends, guided by the light of divine revelation, we know that 
when Almighty God made man. He did not make a diseased or 
corrupt creature. " DeiiS fecit hominem rectitm,'' says the Scrip- 
ture. God made man right. God made him in the integrity 
of his nature. God added to the integrity of that nature a 
higher form — the gift of divine grace. Consider what we were, 
my friends, when God first made us. He made man composed 
of a human body and an immortal soul ; — the body, with all its 
senses, with all its inclinations, with all its necessities ; and into 
that body — formed of the slime of the earth — Almighty God 
breathed a living spirit — the image of Himself. Out of the 
union of that clay with the spirit which was heavenly — which 
came from the mouth of God — out of these two arose the hu- 
man being called man — the beautiful link wherein the mere 
material, gross, and corruptible creation of this earth is united 
with the spiritual and incorruptible nature of heaven ; the one 
magnificent bond wherein matter and spirit meet. And, when 
the soul and body first met in man, in that moment of his crea- 
tion, they met, my dear friends, not as enemies but as friends — 
there was perfect concord between body and soul — perfect sym- 
pathy. The soul was created to govern the body ; the soul was 
created to direct every desire, every impulse — to guide and 
direct every passion and inclination of man. The beauty of 
man's nature lay in this, that everything that was inferior in 
him bowed to the superior, as that superior itself bowed down 
to God ; and therefore the beautiful order in which God 
made man lay in this : He gave to man an intelligence capa- 
ble of knowing and recognizing his Maker ; He filled that in- 
telligence with the light of His own divine knowledge. He 
gave to man a will which was to be guided by the instinct and 
dictation of that enlightened and nriagnificent intelligence ; a 
will which was perfectly subject to the intellect, as the intel- 
lect was to God. He gave to man a heart and affections that 
were to be governed by that will. They were never to rebel 
against that will. That heart and those affections were to be 
perfectly submissive and subordinate to the power of the will of 
man. He gave to man bodily passions, inclinations, senses, and 
desires, which were all subjected to the dictates of that pure 



592 



The Catholic CJuircJi 



heart. As the heart was controlled by a perfectly free will, there 
was no passion in man, no bodily inclination, no desire that re- 
belled for an instant, but was perfectly subjected ; — the affections 
and will were subject to the guidance of man's intelligence — 
which in turn bowed down to God. Then, beneath man and 
around him, every creature of God — the lion and the tiger that 
roamed the forests ; the mountain stag that browsed upon 
the hill-side ; the fishes that swam the deep ; the eagle that 
spread out its strong pinions to wing the healthy air, until he 
soared amongst the clouds and gazed upon the sun — all these 
were as subject to man as man's body was to his soul, and as 
man's soul was to God. And, consequently, unfallen man was 
acknowledged the lord and emperor of this earth. At the sound 
of his magic and imperial voice, the winding serpent came forth 
out of his hole in the earth, no poison in his fangs. At the 
sound of his voice, the eagle descended from her eyrie in the 
summit of the mountains, fluttering like a dove to his feet. At 
the sound of his voice, the tiger and the lion came forth from 
their lair, and licked the feet of their master, man. Behold, 
then, the order in which God created this world — He Himself 
first commanding all things. The first precepts of God fell upon 
the intelligence of man. That power acknowledged them ; the 
very obedience brought strength to him who obeyed ; and every 
inferior faculty of his soul, and every affection of his heart, was 
governed by and subject to the intelligence as the body was 
subject to the soul ; so that there was an infinite beauty in man. 
Then all things acknowledged him as their ruler and their master. 
Oh ! would it not be grand if Adam had not sinned and de- 
stroyed the integrity of the soul — the magnificent spirit of man, 
without any disease, without any infirmity ! Thus, man, not 
knowing what it was to shed a tear of sorrow — man, not know- 
ing one moment's anxiety, and in the strength and in the power 
of his friendship with God — would be the complete being ; the 
acknowledged ruler of all things, of earth itself, even inani- 
mate earth, impregnated with blessings, bringing forth all that 
was most pleasing to the eye and delightful to the senses — ful- 
filling the order for which it was created — well pleased to give 
delight to its imperial master, man. If Adam had been faith- 
ful, human society would never require a regenerator, because 
it would never have fallen from the high and perfect thing 



TJic True Regenerator of Society. 



593 



that God made it in the beginning. But amongst the gifts that 
God gave to man, there was this — He gave him a free will — a 
freedom of will, which God Himself respected. He said to the 
unfallen creature : Before thee, O man, are life and death ; 
before thee are virtue and vice ; before thee are heaven and 
hell ; before thee are life eternal, and death eternal. Thou must 
choose, O man, which of those two thou wilt have." For, 
with all his gifts — all the grandeur and integrity of his nature, 
man would never be worthy of a throne in the kingdom of 
heaven — of God's eternal glory, until he had first, by an act of 
his own free will, chosen to serve that God, and put from him 
the temptation that would lead him from God's friendship and 
love. That temptation came. It is the mystery of these things 
of which St. Paul speaks in this day's Epistle, when he says : 
" Oh the depth of the riches of the knowledge of the wisdom 
of God : how unsearchable are his ways." That temptation 
came. The first man forgot all that he was in his desire to be- 
come something that he was not. He plucked the fatal fruit of 
knowledge ; and he fell from all that God had made him. He 
lost the integrity of his nature ; he lost all the gifts of Divine 
grace ; he lost knowledge — the clear, intellectual comprehen- 
sion, the pure love, the exalted, powerful, and unselfish free 
will, unshackled as the eagle's wing — all were lost to him by 
sin ; and he became what we are so familiar with — the man of 
two thousand years ago — the man of to-day — confined in his 
intellect, and with labor acquiring a little knowledge ; while, if 
he had not sinned, he would have glanced at all things, and 
liave known them. He became enslaved in his will, subject to 
these unruly shocks of passion and to the wicked desires of his 
base inclination, which he was created to govern and rule, but 
by no means to be governed by ; much less, to let it draw him 
from one abyss to another, until he finds his level in hell. Narrow, 
selfish, earthly, and licentious in his love, the first principle of 
love no longer seems to be an expansion of the heart, seeking 
the highest, purest, and most intellectual object, and bringing to 
that object the strength of his undivided and pure affection. No ; 
but it is now a mean, wretched, self-seeking, brutal desire to 
concentrate whatever there is of passion and of lustful enjoy- 
ment in self, and keep it there if he can, yet in the pursuit and 
enjoyment of it to allow the erratic heart to spread itself out like- 

38 



594 



The Catholic Church 



water upon the pathway of sin and of sinful desires. Man 
sinned : he refused to acknowledge Almighty God : the very 
first creature that rebelled against God was the intelligence of 
man that refused to acknowledge the argument of obedience. 
The sin of Adam did not begin with the will ; it began 
with the intelligence. Before he made up his mind and de- 
termined he would violate the precept, he thought over the 
argument : God tells me that I must not eat of this tree, 
because if I do I shall acquire knowledge. This serpent tells 
me that the knowledge will make me like to God." Then he 
sinned ; he looked upon it ; he plucked the fruit ; ate of it ; and 
consummated his sin from that day. 

The m.oment man's intelligence rebelled against God, that 
moment there was complete subversion and destruction of that 
fair order that Almighty God had created in the world. The 
moment man's intelligence rebelled against God, that moment 
man's will refused to obey the dictates and reason of that intel- 
ligence any more ; that moment man's passions arose up in 
rebellion in him. The nev/ly-made sinner looked around him, 
not knowing this mystery that was developed within him, not 
knowing whence came those unruly desires that he could no 
longer govern — whence came those fierce passions that poisoned 
every affection of his heart ; and he must fain accept as rulers, 
things that were beneath him. In this, there fell upon him a 
deeper degradation even than the first sin of Adam. Man's 
own nature rebelled against him ; his body of clay, literally and 
truly a body of clay, which was created to serve and subserve 
the purpose of the mind, and of the soul — that very body arose 
up and demanded homage of the soul, in the gratification of 
every base bodily desire. So the very clay of his composition 
became and took the place of that God whom he had offended 
by sin. And, as it was with man's soul, so it was with the world 
around him. Nature refused to obey the humiliated rebel. 
The face of nature grew hard and stubborn. Upon the rose, 
that bloomed to charm every sense of man, there grew now the 
sharp thorn ; and in his path the fruitless thistle, and the un- 
healthy weed, to poison him with its taste, to offend him with its 
smell, and to warn him away, so as to refrain from its touch. 
Why should nature obey the rebel ? The animate and inanimate 
seemed to be impregnated with the curse, ''Accursed is the 



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earth in thy work to-day," were the words of Ahnighty God to 
the sinner. Why should animated nature obey the rebel against 
God ? The lion and the tiger flashed anger from their eyes so 
full of meekness before : they beheld in the rebellious man, one 
like themselves, whom it was lawful for them to fall upon, to 
seize, and to tear in pieces, and devour. The eagle that soared 
away through the clouds seemed to have lost all respect for that 
magic voice that could once call it down from its highest flights 
in the air. No longer will he heed the voice of fallen man, no 
more than he heeds the growling of the wild beasts, or the 
lowing of the steer upon the hill-side. All nature rebelled 
against man. The fair work, the beautiful work, the harmonious 
work that came from the divine mind, from the infinite love of 
God — all is spoiled — destroyed, broken up and corrupted by the 
sin of man ; and as revelation tells us, for four thousand years 
the model man was destroyed in Adam, and did not appear 
again. For four thousand years, sin after sin, curse after curse 
accumulated upon the earth, until all that had the slightest ray 
of divine knowledge had disappeared ; and the word of the 
Psalmist was fulfilled : " Truth is diminished amongst the chil- 
dren of men ;" until, as it went on, men arrived at such a degra- 
dation of sin that they actually deified their sins, their impurity, 
their dishonesty, their revenge ; and every vile excess received the 
name of God. Thus it was that sin acknowledged, and embodied, 
and personified, was lifted up on their altars so that they not 
only avowed their sin, but adored it ; so that the principle of 
iniquity became a God of the world. In four thousand years, 
men sought in vain for light : there was no light. Men sought 
in vain for grace : there was no grace. The model man was 
destroyed in Adam : the man who was to be the regenerator 
had not yet come. The second model of Almighty God had 
not yet appeared upon the earth. 

But the years rolled on ; and now four thousand years had 
passed away ; and suddenly the heavenly clouds are pregnant 
with mercy: the rain of salvation drops upon the earth. The 
golden gates of heaven are withdrawn, not as of old to rain 
down a deluge of water, to sweep away mankind ; not as of old 
to rain down living fire upon the iniquities of man. Oh ! no ; 
but to rain down the dew of divine mercy — the Eternal Son of 
God.' The second person of the adorable Trinity — true God of 



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true God, the Creator of all things — became incarnate by the 
Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary ; He came down from heaven ; 
He became true man in Mary's womb ; He is born of the Vir- 
gin Mother ; He rested in her pure immaculate arms as He 
rested on His throne in heaven. Behold Jesus Christ, the Re- 
generator, in whom our nature is restored to something far 
more grand than it lost in Adam. Behold the Regenerator of 
the world — the man-God, Jesus Christ, to whom be all honor 
and glory ! And now you see the disease. If you wish to know 
the cure, all you have to do is to look at the divine Redeemer; 
study Him well ; study His actions ; see what He did ; see what 
He was ; and then you will see in what consists the regeneration 
of the world. 

The sin of Adam brought three great curses from heaven. 
Three tremendous evils were brought upon the world by Adam's 
sin. The first of these was, that God himself withdrew from 
man. Until the sin of Adam, God loved to come down to walk 
in the Garden of Eden ; and, in the evening time, when the sun 
was sinking slowly, and declining in the west, God loved to 
walk in the groves of Paradise with His unfallen creature, man. 
Amongst so many other privileges that man possessed, of nature 
and of grace, he enjoyed the high privilege of fellowship, of 
society with God. Is it not so ? Deliciae mcac esse ctun filiis 
honiinum!' My delight is to be with the sons of men. The 
first effect of the sin of Adam was the loss of Almighty God's 
presence. God came again, once, and only once ; and then 
He spoke in anger. He left the inheritance of a curse behind 
Him. Then He withdrew into His high heavens. No man 
beheld His face ; no man heard His voice again ; if that 
voice was heard, it was in the thunders and heavings of Sinai, 
striking terror into every man who heard it. And we read, that 
when He appeared, the prophet of old hid his face in the 'sand, 
"lest he might see the Lord and die." Everything surrounding 
Almighty God, after that sin of Adam, had changed. The Lord 
spoke in a language of terror ; when He came to speak to His 
people it was not in the language of sweetness as of old they 
heard Him ; but it was a voice of vengeance, and of the fury of 
God. The loss of God was the first effect of Adam's sin — the 
first terrible effect. 

The next effect of sin was, that the Lord withdrew the knowl- 



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edge of himself from the earth. Oh, my friends, how the ear of 
unfallen man drank in the music of God, as he hstened to the 
voice of God in the Garden of Eden. God spoke to man, and 
the air around re-echoed with ten thousand harmonies, as of the 
most dehcious song. God breathed that small, still voice of 
which the Scriptures speak, which filled the heart of unfallen 
man, as he responded to every concord of that perfectly attuned 
sound, and throbbed again at the breath of that heavenly voice 
that swept over him ; so that it made music in his soul, harmony 
in his ear, and brought delight and rapture to the heart of man. 
It filled his mind with knowledge, the divine knowledge of faith. 
Hearing God, he had an intuitive knovv'ledge of God, and the 
divine nature of God, in all its magnificent perfection. When 
God withdrew, the light and knowledge disappeared with Him ; 
but it disappeared slowly. For many ages man kept the tra- 
ditions of the true God. The sun set, indeed, but it set slowly. 
The darkness of utter night did not come on suddenly ; but still 
the light was sinking into evening, and night came on apace. 
The sun of divine knowledge set slowly, but, oh ! how effectu- 
ally, into the ocean of ignorance : and there was no light, no 
life, no truth amongst men ; and the intellectual and moral 
atmosphere was darkened ; all, all was black in the blackness 
of night. This was the sad complaint of the prophet Isaias, 
when he exclaimed, There is no truth, there is no knowledge 
of God in the land." And the Lord said, even to the Jewish 
people : My people have been silent because they have no 
knowledge. Cursing, lying, and corruption overflow the land. 
Blood has touched blood, because there is no truth, no knowl- 
edge in the land. Behold the second great loss in Adam's 
sin : the loss of divine knowledge. The thousands of forms of 
human knowledge the soul refused. Human philosophy found 
in the soul an immortal spirit that refused philosophy for its 
food. There was no nourishment for the heart of man ; and yet 
they boasted of their progress and of their civilization, as men 
boast now-a-days in the nineteenth century. God is the light, 
the true light, coming from heaven. The light comes not from 
beneath ; the light comes from above. You might as well seek 
the rising sun in the darkness of night, as seek the true light of 
God in all the researches of human knowledge or human science. 
Therefore, this gospel of progress, this scientific gospel, is no 
f 



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substitute for religion ; this human philosophy is separated from 
God ; and, from the simplicity of his faith, God alone could give 
divine knowledge, his voice was not heard, and the world in its 
wisdom knew not God. 

The third great evil — the third loss of man, by his sin — 
was the loss of Divine grace. This was even worse — still far 
worse than the loss of God Himself, or the loss of knowledge. 
It w^as infinitely greater than the loss of knowledge. It was 
greater than the loss of God Himself. I will prove it. Even if 
God had withdrawn for a time — if man had kept the Divine 
grace — then, at the hour of his death, he would behold that God 
again. So, it was the most terrible loss, for if man had kept 
Divine grace, the separation from God would have been for a 
small span of years. That grace would have kept him holy in 
purity and in the gift of a strong, abiding, vigorous, efficacious 
command over every passion, over every inclination, and have 
given empire to the soul over the body, and all other graces of 
God to the heart of man, and to the soul of man. But, by sin 
he not only lost the society of God, the knowledge of God, 
but — most terrible loss of all — he lost the grace which the 
Almighty God had bestowed upon him. So long as that grace 
was upon him it made him pleasing to Almighty God. Even 
the greatest misery of all the consequences of sin, the wavering 
of the mind, the monotony of life, the hardening of the heart, 
the rebellion of the passions, he need have no fear of, so long 
as God's grace was upon him ; he was still a child of God, 
dearest and most beautiful in his Father's eyes. It was only 
when he lost that grace — it was only Avhen he became the 
slave of his passions, the servant of his bodily inclinations — 
when he became unholy and impure — only then* did Almighty 
God regard him as His enemy — the man whose existence was a 
curse, and whose end was to be everlasting perdition ! 

These were the three losses. Now we will consider the re- 
generation, and the remedy of the Redeemer. He came. He 
brought back to us precisely the three things that we lost in 
Adam. Oh, how beautiful was His coming ! Oh, how tender 
and loving was the coming of the Son of God ! First, God left 
the earth with anger upon his brow and a curse upon His lips. 
He departed in wrath — He left the trembling sinner horror- 
stricken at His curse, while the hissing serpent wound his way 



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into the thicket and disappeared, with this curse upon Him. 
Heaven and earth took up the curse ; the heavens rained down 
the curse, and it sank like rain into the soil of earth. It 
brought sterility to the earth. It brought poison to the snake. It 
brought fury to the lion and the tiger, and to the other wild beasts 
of the forest. It permeated nature ; and then there was noth- 
ing but despair and darkness as of night. How terrific was the 
withdrawal of Almighty God from the earth ! How sweet, 
how loving is His coming! A virgin brings Him forth; a 
daughter of earth, most pure and holy, yet simply human — 

Of the earth earthly." A daughter of the sons of men- 
pure, young, beautiful, fit to be the Mother of the Son of God. 
She was to bring forth the Majesty and fullness of God in her 
Divine Son. He was to come forth, when He was thirty 
years of age, in the fullness of time to preach the Gospel and 
announce the truth. The very first word that ever came from 
the lips of Jesus Christ was the word blessed ! He went up 
into the mountain when He had called the people around Him. 
After four thousand years silence, God is about to speak ! For 
four thousand years,- the echoes that were heard in the groves 
of Paradise, during the long, long ages passed, had re-echoed 
the curse of God. God opens his lips and speaks : Blessed 
are the poor ! " How beautiful, how simple ! For sin, God 
cursed the earth : and He said, on this day, to the sinner : 

Blessed are the poor ! " taking commiseration on poverty, 
with all its afflictions — poverty, with all its humiliations — pov- 
erty, with its naked body starving — poverty, despised and 
rejected by the world — poverty, with its sickness and its 
sorrows — the very effect of sin. Blessed are the poor," 
He said, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven ! " Oh, how 
beautiful is the coming of the Son of God in that day ; by His 
very presence amongst men He brought back the first great 
thing that Adam had lost. God was lost by the sin of man ; 
man lost the society and the fellowship of God. God is 
restored in Jesus Christ. In Him dwelt the fullness of divinity. 
He came : but He came as God. You might look upon Him 
as one of earth, as a little child, trembling in His mother's 
arms, weeping upon her bosom, did you not know that the new- 
born Infant is the Eternal God. God came again to save 
His fallen creature, man. God came with blessings upon His 



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lips, favor and mercy in His hands. God came again to speak 
words that fell as music upon the ears of the sinner and the 
afflicted one. Come to Me, all ye who are burdened and 
heavy laden, and I will refresh you." Come to Me, O ye 
sinners ; for I am not one who requires much. Come to Me, 
O ye afflicted and fallen, that I may lift you, and give glory to 
My Father, and give joy for the one sinner that doeth pen- 
ance. For I am the way, the truth, and the life. Thus came 
God, the Regenerator. 

Moreover, He brought back with Him what man had lost by 
sin ; namely, the truth — the knowledge of truth. Did He come 
to take sight of the world — to observe with an all-seeing eye — 
to scan all its imperfections? Did He come to judge the world, 
to take silent note of man's weakness, of man's ingratitude for 
favors, and of the impurity that surrounded him — to take silent 
note of him, and in His infinite wisdom and sanctity to judge 
him? No. He came not to judge, but to save. He came 
speaking as God — God proclaiming to all men, and to all nations 
and classes of men, the truth which He brought with Him from 
heaven. He spread that truth amongst men. He declared that 
they should " know the truth." No longer should they inquire 
after the truth. The anxious philosopher seeking for his 
God, was a thing of the past. Humanity looking for its 
religion was a thing of the past ; for the Eternal Son of God 
said : " You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make 
you free." So He gave to man the truth as it is in Jesus Christ 
our Lord. 

But the loss of divine grace was the most terrible loss of 
all to man — a greater loss than even the temporary loss of the 
fellowship of God ; greater even than the loss of the knowledge 
of God. Oh, in vain would Christ have come and given us Him- 
self in His own divine person ; in vain would He have given us 
the knowledge we had lost, if He had not also brought with 
Him from heaven His divine grace, purifying, strengthening, 
and reviving the souls of men. Therefore He came not only to 
preach, my dear friends, but also to hear the sinner's confession 
and to absolve him. He came not only to propagate the truth 
in His preaching, but He came to touch the eyes of the blind, 
to open them ; not so much the eyes of the body as the eyes 
of the soul When the miracle had been performed — when the 



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blind man's eyes were opened — he sought out Christ and said to 
Him, Who is the Lord, that I may believe in Him ? Then Christ 
said, " It is He that talketh with thee." And he, filled with 
divine light, said, " I believe, Lord, and falling down he adored 
him." He opened the eyes of that man's soul far more effectually 
to the light of divine truth than the eyes of his body to the 
light of the rising or tlte setting sun. 

He came to give grace. Now, I want to insist upon this. 
Our age shuts its eyes to this great feature of the Catholic Church. 
Men now-a-days are proud of their multitude of religions, and 
call them all religious truths. Denying one another — opposed 
to each other — yet they call them all religious truths ! And in 
their pursuit of truth, I am willing to admit and to believe that, 
in very many cases, they are animated by a real, high-minded, 
pure-minded, earnest desire to arrive at that truth. I would 
not have you, my Catholic friends, imagine for an instant that 
there is no purity of intention, or loftiness of purpose, and 
earnestness of will outside of the Catholic Church. No ; this 
would be the highest form of bigotry. I would not that Catho- 
lics were inclined to believe that all earnestness, all sincerity, 
and all goodness was confined to us ; we who have so much that 
we can afford to be generous and to be true to those who are 
without the pale of the Church ; filled with earnestness in their 
efforts to arrive at the truth ; yet every man thinking that he 
has the possession of the truth, as it is in Jesus Christ. One 
man says baptism is necessary for salvation ; another man says 
it is not. Both sincerely believe that they have the truth as it 
is in Christ ; yet one or the other is believing and preaching 
a lie. But, though I say they are earnest in their pursuit 
after truth, I don't say they find it. I say they do not. I am 
as sure of it as I am of my own existence. I know, as I know 
my God is here, that there is no absolute certainty of divine truth 
to be found outside of the Holy Roman Catholic Church. If 
I did not know it, I would not assert it. If I did not believe 
it, I would not devote my whole life, in all sincerity, and in fra- 
ternal love, to try to induce my fellow-men, on every side, to hear 
me — to come with me, that I might lead them into that Church, 
and let them bow down before that altar. Would I, in common 
with my fellow-priests, devote my life to this truth, but because 
we know that Ihis truth is necessary for salvation ? But even if 



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they had the truth — if they possessed the truth — the possession 
of the truth is not enough ; for man stands in need of something 
besides the truth, namely, grace. Truth alone — even to the 
mind of man, the highest form of truth — is not sufficient. Di- 
vine as that truth may be, it is not enough. We, Cathohcs, 
know the truth. Will any man tell me that it is enough when 
he has made an act of faith ? Does any man believe that this 
is enough? No ; no Catholic believes it: the Catholic Church 
never taught such a thing. Why? Because Christ, our Lord, 
brought from heaven not only truth but grace. The birth of 
that grace and truth is virtue to the intelligence that admits it — 
truth is the proper object and virtue of the intelligence, grace 
is the virtue and power which acts upon the affections and the 
will — the grace of virtue to the heart, to the affections, andto the 
will. That grace is necessary for salvation according to the word 
of St. Paul, who says : " By the grace of God I am what I am." 
Nay, more, if you have not that grace, which is divine charity, 
you have not vivifying faith. Hear the word of inspiration, which 
says: ''If I should have all knowledge and have not charity 
it profiteth me nothing." Do you imagine that I, or any other 
Catholic man, trusts to his knowledge to keep him in moments 
of temptation — to enable him to restrain evil desires, to conquer 
his passions? If he trusts to knowledge, he will turn away, and 
shut his eyes to the power of Almighty God ; and, in the moment 
of blind trust, he stains his soul with mortal sin. Do you imagine 
that we trust to knowledge to keep us in the hour of temptation ? 
Knowledge, no matter how extensive, will never make a man pure. 
Why, you might as well attempt to moor a vessel with a single 
thread of silk, as to keep down, by human or even divine knowledge, 
alone, the passions of man. The grace of God — the grace of God 
obtained by prayer — is necessary in order to preserve the heart and 
soul pure in the tumultuous temptations of man's earthly life. This 
grace Christ gave us in the sacraments : these therefore are neces- 
sary to man. Behold, then, in what the generation of this world 
consists. It consists in restoring, through Christ, grace to every 
man amongst us — it consists in taking away the evil of sin — in" 
taking away the corruption of sin — and in substituting the Lord 
Jesus Christ. Not Adam ; but Christ. Not Adam, but some one 
far above and infinitely greater than Adam. For, as it is usual 
with God, when He does a thing, to do it perfectly and super- 
abundantly — so, when He came with the remedy for Adam's 



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sin, He brought a remedy, which left us much greater and 
more honored than even the unfallen Adam ; and it is here in 
the adorable sacrament of the altar of Jesus Christ. 

But what about the Church ? " you say ; what about the 
Church of which you came here to preach to-day ? you did not 
say a word about the Church." I know very well, my friends, that 
is all true. They tell a story in old Roman history, of a poor 
peasant who had three goats stolen from him. Well, he hired 
a lawyer to plead his case, and to get him back his three goats. 
The lawyer came before the judge ; the accused was there also ; 
the lawyer made a splendid speech. He began with the history 
of the foundation of Rome ; he went through all the wars of 
the Roman emperors ; expatiated upon all the great generals 
that Rome produced ; and he was about sinking down ex- 
hausted, after a long and magnificent effort, when the poor 
man came and spoke to him : " Will you be good enough, even 
now," says he, " to say a word about my three goats? " Now, 
I am not going to treat you in this way. I have dwelt on faith 
at some length, and, although, in truth, I did not mention a 
word about the Church, I still meant it all the time. Christ, 
our Lord, is in his Church — Christ, our Lord, solemnly de- 
clared that He was in His Church until the end of time. 
Christ declared simply and emphatically, that, although He 
lived in His visible person amongst men only thirty-three 
years, He intended to live until the last moment of the world's 
history in His Church. Therefore, whatever He was yester- 
day, the same He is to-day. Now, mark : the Apostle, St. 
Paul, says; ''Jesus Christ yesterday, to-day, and the same 
forever." He did not come to do a transient or ephem- 
eral work. He did not come to teach men to live again 
after Him as they lived before His coming. No ; but He 
declared : I am come, not for a day, not for a time, but 
for ever. I am come to remain. Think not that I am go- 
ing away. He says to the Apostles : "I will not leave you 
orphans. I will come to you again. I will be with you 
all days until the consummation of the word." Do not imagine 
for a moment that the work which was begun at the moment 
when Mary, at the Incarnation, said, " Be it done to me accord- 
ing to Thy word ;" and God was made present in her immacu- 
late bosom ; — do not imagine, for a moment, that that work has 
ever ceased. No ; no. Before He left He substantiated Him- 



Tiie Catholic CJiurch 



self in the Blessed Eucharist. Before He left, He changed the 
bread and wine into His body and blood ; and even as He 
changed the water into wine at Cana in Galilee, so He changed 
the wine into His heart's blood in the Eucharist. Do not imas-- 
ine that the Saviour went away to return no more, thereby giving 
the lie to Himself; for He said: " I will come back. I will not 
leave you orphans, I am with you until the consummation of the 
world." And, as the Regenerator of the world speaks through 
His Church, whoever denies the Church denies Christ. In this, 
mark how clearly — mark how emphatically and how distinctly, 
the Son of God left the three marks upon His Church as in 
Himself. The three great evils that sin had done are undone by 
His Church. First : God was made present in Christ. The truth 
of God wasmade present in the word of Christ. The grace of 
God Avas made present in the action of Christ ; and so it is with 
the Church ; for He said : There is one thing that I will leave 
you ; no matter what else you may be deprived of. They shall 
cast out your name as evil for my sake. You may not have the 
smiles or the friendship of this world. I tell you that the 
friendship of this w^orld is enmity to God. There is one thing 
you must have. I will send my Spirit of Truth upon you, to 
remain with you forever, who will abide with you and lead you 
into all truth. The truth and knowledge of God shall be in 
that Church ; for He says : The gates of hell shall never pre- 
vail againsl^that Church. That truth shall be upon your lips ; 
and as the Father sent me I also send you ; go teach all nations 
to obey my commandments." I ask you, my friend§, can the word 
of God or man be more clearly or more emphatically expressed 
to assure us that the fullness of unchanging truth and the posses- 
sion of the divine sceptre was to be bound to the Catholic Church 
forever ? Is there itiore than this ? He gave to that Church 
power to grant and confer grace — that which was the highest 
virtue of divine grace on this earth, namely, the forgiveness of 
sin. When the Pharisees saw our Lord raising the dead, they 
wondered, to be sure. When they saw Him opening the eyes 
of the blind, and healing the sick, they wondered ; yet they 
never accused Him of blasphemy. But the moment they heard 
Him say to the paralytic man : " Thy sins are forgiven thee ! " 
at once they said : ''Who is the blasphemer that says He can 
forgive sin?" And a perfect right they would have to say so, 



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if he had not been Christ ; for Christ in this would have been 
a blasphemer if He had not been God. Not alone in the for- 
giveness of sin has Almighty God himself achieved the highest 
triumph of His omnipotent power. The gift of that power He 
gave to man, through Jesus Christ. All power," He says, " in 
heaven and on earth is given to Me ; " and the man-God Jesus 
Christ distinctly gave that power to his Apostles ; for he said 
to them : All power in heaven and on earth is given to Me ; 
now, as the Father sent Me, with all that power, so do I send 
you." Then, approaching. He solemnly breathed upon them, 
as they knelt around Him, and He said : " Receive ye the Holy 
Ghost ; whose sins you shall forgive they are forgiven them ; 
and whose sins you shall retain they are retained." 

The truth of God remains upon the infallible lips of the 
Church. Grace is poured abroad from the sacramental hands 
of the spouse of Jesus Christ. No man can deny this, if he ad- 
mits any meaning to the words of the Saviour. He gave to 
the Apostles and their successors individually, the essential 
power to forgive sin ; so, in this day's Gospel, He says : Go 
teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and 
of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." Now I ask you what does 
this mean? Go teach all nations! " Teach all nations by the 
power of that word which was to create faith ; for faith comes 
by hearing — not the word of man, but of God. Therefore, it 
was the word of God that was upon their lips that spread the 
faith. Therefore, it was the word of God, enlightening them, 
enabling them, strengthening them ; and as it was upon the lips 
of the twelve foundation stones of the Church so it is upon the 
lips of their successors to-day. What does He mean by saying 

go, teach and baptize them"? What does this mean? Does 
it not mean that He gave them power to regenerate that 
which was badly degenerated in Adam? Does it not mean that 
He gave them power to apply His own most precious blood to 
save the unregenerated, and in the baptismal water to cleanse 
sin from the soul ? Does He not emphatically give them power 
to deal with the sin of Adam in one sacrament, and to deal with 
individual sin in another? The general admission of those who 
are outside the Church is that baptism takes away sin. We 
acknowledge that baptism takes away sin. We acknowledge 
that it regenerates ; it gives new birth, and that it takes away 



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the sin of Adam from the soul. This is really and truly the 
meaning as applied by the Church — this is baptism — this is the 
regeneration. Great God ! the inconsistency of m.en, who ac- 
knowledge that God has given His Church, in one sacrament, 
the very power they deny in another ! Why, the Saviour has 
said most emphatically, Whose sins you shall forgive they are 
forgiven ; whose sins you shall retain they are retained." Now% 
my friends, in these great attributes the Church of God is 
nothing more than the type of Jesus Christ, her Divine founder. 

Finally, He was not content with giving His Church the word 
of truth. He was not content with conferring on it the power 
of granting grace — that cleansing grace for regenerating and 
reviving the souls of men ; but He crowned all His gifts by 
giving Himself, and leaving Himself in the tabernacles of His 
Catholic Church. He gave to us the essence of truth and of 
grace ; for, wherever Christ Jesus is, there is the fountain of 
Divine truth and of reviving, sanctifying grace. In this way the 
Church is the regenerator of society. I wish to show you — I 
wish to bring home the question more to yourselves in a prac- 
tical manner ; and I ask you, let us suppose there was no Cath- 
olic Church in the world. Let us suppose, for an instant, that she 
was, as many good, kind-hearted Protestants seem sometimes to 
think, namely, an idolatress and a falsifier. When did she 
begin to be this ? In what year ? Fifteen hundred years ago, 
let us suppose she was this. Then, my Protestant friend, you 
have no authority at all for upholding one iota of Christian 
doctrine. In early days there were more than four Gospels 
written. The Catholic Church took four Gospels and rejected 
the others. Upon her own authority, inspired and directed by 
the spirit of God, she held four Gospels and rejected the others. 
You have these Gospels from the Catholic Church. Deny the 
existence of the Catholic Church for a moment, and what have 
you left ? Is there a man in this world that could stand up and 
say, " This is the truth. I am prepared to prove it is, as com- 
ing from the lips of Jesus Christ," without the aid of the Catholic 
Church? Tradition is gone — truth is gone — the Apostolic suc- 
cession is carried away ; the golden link that binds this nine- 
teenth century with those centuries that have passed away is 
destroyed ; and there remains on this earth not a single voice 
authorized to teach the Gospel of Jesus Christ I The order — 



The True Regenerator of Society. 



6o7 



the Divine order — that was established in the first beginning by 
Almighty God, before ever Adam was born — that order which 
was destroyed by sin and restored by Jesus Christ, and com- 
pleted by His Church — that order would be destroyed if you 
take away that Church. Let us suppose, for an instant, that 
the Catholic Church were an idolatress, — that the food she gives 
could be poison : w^ho is to hold men accountable if they violate 
the law — if they escape the human penalty of their crimes? 
There is none but this " falsifier and idolatress," to hold them, 
accountable. God has loosed his hold of them ; and who is to 
hold them accountable? Who is to make them examine their 
consciences and make that conscience tender and that soul pure? 
For instance, if a man gets ten thousand dollars dishonestly, in 
some transaction in which the law cannot affect him ; if that 
man is a Catholic, the moment he goes to confession — the mo- 
ment he kneels to God's priest, and says : " I have made ten thou- 
sand dollars unjustly " — the confessor says : " You must make 
restitution. The curse of the Son of God will fall upon you, if 
you do not restore it. You need never expect forgiveness, and I 
will not allow you to approach the Altar of God, for Holy Com- 
munion, until you have paid to the last farthing ! " A servant, 
perhaps, is in the habit of pilfering, day by day, a little ; one 
day she takes away an ounce of tea ; the next day a bushel of 
coals ; and so on. This goes on undetected ; and, if you would 
tell her she was doing wrong, she would say, probably : " Thank 
you, for nothing I I know that very well, myself It is no 
harm, as long as I am not found out." But the Catholic ser- 
vant has to go to confession at Easter time. She knows that 
she cannot approach the Altar for communion, unless she makes 
up her mind and her will against all pilfering ; and that she 
must restore to the last farthing, all that she has taken. I ask 
you, in what consists the regeneration of society ? What keeps 
it sound ? Many, outside the Catholic Church, say, " Oh, it does 
not matter a great deal ; society gets on very well ! " But, I tell 
you, it does matter a great deal. A young man outside the Cath- 
olic Church marries a young girl, for the six or seven years they 
have been together they lived happily. In an evil hour he sees some 
one : he begins to love another beside the wife of his bosom. That 
moment, the devil's temptations come in. He gets the aid of his 
comipanions to help him to rid him of his wife ; and to licentious 



6o8 



The Catholic Church 



men like him, it does not matter how. Her fair name is lost by 
one breath. He goes into the court and gets his bill of 
divorce ; " and he drives from her home, the wife of his bosom, 
the mother of his children, with a lost, or a shattered character. 
To the Protestant man, or a man who is not a Catholic, my 
words are not of the slightest weight ; they are but as the passing 
breeze. But, if he can do this, I tell you, the religion that permits 
him, or assists him to commit this crime — which is accursed of 
God, because it is breaking asunder the bond Christ has declared 
should never be sundered — is breaking up the very foundations 
of society. But if the Catholic man marries a wife — no matter 
how bad he is — and there is no man as bad as a bad Catholic — 
a bad Protestant is nothing to him — but, if this Catholic is as 
bad as bad can be, he would never attempt to avail himself of 
the power that he sees his Protestant fellow-man exercising, 
as it is exercised by non-Catholics, so freely in this age of ours. 
If the thought would cross his mind, the Church of God stands 
up, and says: My friend, God has given you this wife — what- 
ever else you do — whatever law you break — whatever crime you 
commit — whatever one you prove false to — you must love that 
woman ; for while she lives you shall never call another by the 
sacred name of wife." He dare not attempt it. He would like 
to do an evil thing ; but he cannot do it. In which of these 
two consists the regeneration of society? 

So, throughout all, the Catholic Church is the regenerator of 
society ; so it brings out the sacred image of Jesus Christ as 
it is in man. The true regenerator of society is that which 
annihilates all that is impure and bad in man, in the complete 
assertion of the intelligence ; in the dominion of the soul over 
the body; and in the complete development of the intellectual, 
spiritual, and angelic in man. Oh, where shall we find them so 
developed ; where shall we find passion and will so subdued, 
love so enlarged and purified, soul so humble before God? 
Where shall we find the image of Jesus Christ so developed as 
in these veiled ones that you see before you, who, never for an 
instant, can admit into their virgin hearts one vain passion, or 
to their minds one thought of selfish love ; though with hearts 
large enough to let in every form of affliction and misery that 
can present itself. And this is the complete triumph of grace 
over nature. Oh, my friends, if there are any here who are not 



The True Regenerator of Society. 609 

Catholics, would to God that you could only open your eyes 
and see what we see — that this Church of God regenerates that 
life of the world. The grace of God — the action of God — is 
seen in His Church, making everything instinct with life, filling 
men with purity and honesty. Eighteen hundred and seventy- 
two years have passed away, and the Church is as fresh to-day 
as she was when Peter preached his first sermon. Many ages 
have passed away ; everything else on the earth has changed ; 
kingdoms have changed : the history of ages is but the history 
of the Catholic Church ; for what she was yesterday she is to- 
day, and the same forever, because she is upheld by Jesus 
Christ : for, As He was yesterday He is to-day and is the 
same for ever. I think that we have sufficiently proved that 
if this world is to be regenerated, sweetened, and purified, and 
preserved in that sweetness and purity, it must be done only by 
the action of the Holy Catholic Church. 

39 



THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND 
THE WANTS OF SOCIETY. 



[Delivered in the Academy of Music, Brooklyn, on Sunday Evening, June 2, 1872, 
for the benefit of St. Augustine's Church, Brooklyn, N. Y.] 

ADIES AND GENTLEMEN: The subject on which 
I propose to address you this evening, is the most im- 
portant that could occupy your mind or mine, viz., 
" What are the great wants of society in our age, and 
how are we to meet them? " 

The first great question that comes before every age, and 
every class of society, is : How are we to meet the most pressing 
wants of our people ? Now, what are the wants of society in 
this, our day, and how are we to meet them ? That is the great 
question that I am come to answer to you this evening. What 
are the wants of society in this, our present day ? I ask the 
philosopher ; I ask the statesman ; I ask the political econo- 
mist ; I ask the observer of men ; I ask the director of morals ; 
I ask the man who exults over the success, and pines and groans 
over the sorrows of society: What are the wants of our day, and 
how are w^e to meet them ? I hold — and I think that you will 
agree with me — that it is not this little, miserable thing, or that, 
that ought to occupy our attention when we ask ourselves the 
mighty question : "What are the wants of our age ? " To be 
sure, if you ask an individual man what are the wants of his age, 
he will narrow them by the compass of his own understanding, 
and of his own circle. I remember once asking a shoemaker, in 
Ireland, what he considered the wants of the age ; and he 
scratched the back of his head, and said : " I think," said he, 
" the great want of our age is to remove the tax on leather." 




The Catholic Church and the Wants of Society. *6ii 



Now, it is not in this spirit that we come together this evening. 
I know that I have the honor to address, not only my fellow- 
Cathohcs — (and many amongst them are my fellow-countrymen) 
— but that I have also the honor, this evening, to address a 
great many Protestant gentlemen and ladies. And, therefore, 
before such a distinguished assembly, I must rise to the dignity 
of the occasion, and I must endeavor to meet their views, as 
well as to express my own, in answering the question : " What 
are the wants of our age ?" 

Well, my friends, in order to answer that question properly, I 
must ask you to remember that we all have three great relations. 
The first of these is our relation to God. The second is our 
relation to our family and ourselves — to the little world that 
surrounds us. And the third is our relation to the great world 
around us, that constitutes the state and the society in which 
we live. These, surely, are the three great wants of every age. 
Every age and every condition of the society of man demands, 
first of all, the tribute to God that belongs to God. Next to 
God in sacredness, in necessity, in claim upon us, comes our 
domestic family and circle. Thirdly, comes the claim that the 
society in which we live makes upon us : and any man that 
acquits himself properly of all duty that he owes to God above 
him, to his family around him, and to the state and society in 
w^hich he lives, that man may be said, truly and emphatically, 
to come up to all the wants of the age, and all the demands that 
God and man make upon him. If, therefore, you would know, 
my friends, what are the wants of our age, I ask you to reflect 
what is the first demand of God ? What is the first demand of 
the family? What is the first demand of society? You will find 
that the very first thing the Almighty God asks of us is Faith ; 
the tribute of divine Faith. The very first thing that the family 
— the wife and the children — ask of every man, is purity and 
fidelity ; and the great demand that society makes upon every man 
is the demand for honesty, honor, firmness of purpose : honesty 
in his dealings with his fellow-man ; in all commercial relations 
with society ; in all his administrative capacity. Behold, now, 
in these three relations, the three great wants of our age. Our age 
is wanting in these three ; they do not sufficiently exist ; there is 
not supply sufficient to meet the demand. You know that the 
markets are always thrown out of gear, and there is confusion 



6l2 



The Catholic Church and 



in the commercial world, whenever demand and supply don't 
meet each other. For instance : if there is an extraordinary 
demand for meat, and the butchers are not able to meet it, 
why ^11 the people are thrown into confusion. Prices are raised. 
There is a rush upon the market. If, again, there is a great 
demand for gold, such that the banks are not able to meet it, 
then there is a rush of people on the banks, and you find them 
smothering each other in their maddened endeavors to get their 
orders paid, and their notes cashed. And so with supply and 
demand in everything. Wherever there is not a supply 
there is a confusion. So it is with this world of ours. The 
world demands three articles : Faith, Purity, and Honesty. 
You will pardon me if I say to you, as an observer of my fel- 
low-men, we do not meet the demand ; we have not sufficient 
supply. We have not sufficient supply of Faith. What does 
Faith mean ? It means two things, my friends. Every man 
Avho wishes to analyze what Faith means, will find that it 
means two things, viz. : first, certain knowledge — absolute cer- 
tainty of knowledge ; secondly, the practical knowledge that 
influences the lives of men. There are two kinds of knowledge. 
There is a knowledge that does not contribute anything to the 
sum of man's actions. For instance, if I solve a problem in 
mathematics — in geometry, say — and I come to a fair conclu- 
sion, and prove my proposition, what then? AA'hy, I have 
gained a point in knowledge. But that does not influence my 
actions. It does not make me eat my breakfast with any more 
appetite. It does not induce me to abstain from this thing, or 
that thing, or anything. It does not make me meet my friend 
with more good will. It does not enable me to pardon an out- 
rage. It does not enable me or induce me to abstain from a 
single sin. It is mere intellectual knowledge. But there is 
another kind of knowledge which comes with the power of a 
precept ; which tells me, such and such is the case ; such and 
such is the fact, and you are called upon to act up to it. Such, 
for instance, is the knowledge that I have that I must forgive 
the man that injures me. I go out in the street with that 
knowledge, and a man insults me, and, instead of striking that 
man, or resenting the insult, I quietly bear it and pass on. The 
knowledge that tells me that I must love my neighbor as myself, 
and that I must not injure him in person or in property, I have 



The Wants of Society. 



613 



an opportunity of gaming something by injuring my fellow-man. 
I find that I can step into his place, that I can get his situation 
if I can only say, He is a bad man ; I know he is a bad man 
if I only say that, his employer will dismiss him and employ me. 
But I remember the principle of divine knowledge that is in my 
mind: Don't say a word about that man; don't do anything 
to him, or say anything of him, that you would not have said or 
done to yourself." And so I refrain. That is practical knowl- 
edge. Now, my friends, faith means knowledge, and practical 
knowledge ; and this is precisely what our age is deficient in. 
Our age is deficient, first of all, in knowdedge. Take away the 
Catholics that live in every land--take us away — leave the rest 
of mankind — leave them under their various denominations — 
Protestant, and Methodist, and Baptist, and Anabaptist, and 
Quaker, and so on — and what knowledge have they? What 
knowledge have they that comes up to the grandeur and the dignity 
of faith ? God forbid that I should conceive an insulting thought, 
or say an insulting word of, or to, my fellow-man. But I ask 
you to reflect ; what knowledge have they ? They are broken 
up into a hundred congregations and a hundred sects. One 
says one thing ; another says another. I amused myself on 
Monday morning by spending half an hour reading the New York 
Sunday papers. And there I saw, in one, how Mr. So-and-so 
said one thing. He said that man did not require this thing, or 
the other thing. Mr. So-and-so, in the next street, said he did 
require it. There was a holy Quaker stood up in one of these 
assemblies, who shook his head, sighed, and ''groaned to the 
Lord." And then, when he had ''groaned to the Lord," and 
"joined himself to the Father," what do you think did he say? 
He said that " Our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, was not the 
Son of God at all ! It was all a mistake ! " On the other hand, 
we had another man saying, and saying truly, that " If any man 
asserted this, he was worthy of eternal damnation ! " And so, 
broken up into a thousand various sects, a thousand opin- 
ions, ask any one man this — put him before you, and say: " Tell 
me, friend, how do you know that you are right ? " He will say : 
" I know it, because I find it in the Scriptures." " But the 
man who contradicts you finds what he says in the Scriptures! " 
" You say that Christ is the Son of God ? " " Yes," " But how 
do you know that you are right?" " I find it in the Scriptures." 



6i4 



The Catholic Church and 



But the Quakers say — He is not. Ask them, How do you know 
that you are right ? " " Oh, it is in the Scriptures ! " And so they 
all appeal to the Scriptures. And why? Because the Scriptures, 
though they are the inspired word of God, do not tell one thing 
to all men. They tell you what you like to get from them; 
they tell you what your opinion is, and what you would like it 
to be, and they tell me mine. So that there are many Scriptures 
instead of one — yours, and yours, and yours. And then, if you 
say to any one of these men, " Are you perfectly sure that you 
are right !" Oh, yes ! " " Are you sure now, so that you are 
beyond all possibility of making a mistake ? " " Certainly ; per- 
fectly sure." ''Then you are infallible! Why, then, you are 
a Pope! What right have you to complain of the Catholics 
when they say the Pope is infallible ? Can you be mistaken or 
can you not?" If they say they can, then I turn away at once 
and say, " My friend, I have nothing to say to you. If you can 
be mistaken on this question of religion, I want to have not 
another word to say to you ; because, if you are mistaken, you 
might lead me into a mistake too ; but if you are not mistaken, 
and if you cannot be mistaken, then you are an infallible man. 
Now, show me the promise that made you infallible ! If you 
claim this infallibility, why, in the name of heaven, say that we 
Catholics are idolators, because we say that the Head of the 
Church, the man who succeeded St. Peter, the man to whom, 
through St. Peter, Christ our Lord said : '' I have prayed for thee 
that thy faith fail not to confirm thy brethren" — because we say 
that man is infallible, in his guidance of the Church ? You say he 
is not ; you say the Church is not infallible — but you are ! Now, 
my friend, I don't believe you ! It would be something like the 
fool we read of There was a fool in the county of Galway in 
'98 — the " year of the troubles," and General Merrick went down 
to Galway and commanded the troops. They were hanging the 
people then. The fool saw the General ride up with his cocked 
hat, and the white feather in it, at the head of his troops. The 
fool made a cocked hat for himself, and put a white feather in 
it. Then he walked around the town and said he was General 
Merrick. So it is with every man of these. He says the Pope 
has no right to be infallible. The Catholic Church has no 
right to be infallible. Then he puts on his cocked hat, and 
says : But / am infallible ! If you believe the Pope you are a 



The Wants of Society. 



615 



fool I If you believe the Catholic Church you are a fool ! But 
if you don't believe me you will be damned ! Now, it comes 
to this, or it comes to nothing at all. Well now, my friend, recol- 
lect for a moment. Not one voice outside the Catholic Church pre- 
tends to lay claim to knowledge, but only to opinion. Each one 
says : Well, that is my opinion." But I answer : Opinion is not 
faith. Faith is knowledge ; faith is certain knowledge. Faith 
means not only strength of opinion and power of conviction ; 
but faith means to knozv — to know the thing as clearly and as 
plainly as we know our own existence. That is faith, and that 
alone. For our Lord said : " I will not send you inquiring 
about the truth ; I will not send you to form your opinions 
about what is the truth ; I will not send you t.o argue out con- 
victions about the truth ; but I am come to give you the truth. 
I am the truth ; you shall know the truth ; and the truth shall 
make you free." You shall know the truth ! You shall have 
a knowledge of it as certain and more certain and strong, than 
of your own existence. More than this : Faith is a knowledge 
of a practical kind. It tells us not only what we are to believe 
but it tells us, also, what we are to do. It is all very well for a 
man to believe this, that, and the other point of the Scripture. 
As for instance ; all men believe in the existence of God. All 
men believe in the Divinity of our Divine Lord — with a few ex- 
ceptions. All men with the same few exceptions, believe that 
He, coming down from heaven, came down to redeem and save 
us. And in those sermons that you read, delivered outside the 
Catholic Church, you will mostly find that they are discussing 
elementary and fundamental truths ; the atonement of the Son 
of God ; the w^onderful condescension of God becoming man. But 
how rarely do they speak about the specific duties of man? How 
rarely do they tell their people You must do this or you must 
avoid that." The moment you enter the Catholic Church, that 
moment do you find yourself, face to face, with along list of du- 
ties that belong to you personally. The Catholic Church lays 
hold of you and says: ''See here, my friend, you must go to 
confession ; you must purify your conscience ; you must pray 
morning and evening ; you must go to mass ; you must frequent 
the sacraments ; you must receive Holy Communion, and re- 
ceive it worthily ; you must fast on such and such days ; you 
must make restitution if you have wronged any one ; and so 



6i6 



The Catholic Church and 



on. There is a whole list of practical duties, which is the very 
first thing that we meet when we come into the Catholic Church. 
The reason of this is, that in the Catholic Church faith ceases 
to be a sentiment, or a mere act of devotion — a mere uplifting 
of the mind to God. It is this, all this, and more. It brings 
with it an immense list of personal duties necessary for the 
sanctifying of every man. Now, I ask you, is not this faith, 
certain in its knowledge — is it not the great want of our age ? 
What is the cry that we hear now-a-days outside the Catholic 
Church? The cry is: "Oh, the number of men that are infi- 
dels ! The number of men that never go to Church at all ! 
The number of men that scarcely believe anything! " We find 
so many of them saying: "Oh, I don't care forgoing to Church, 
because I don't like the preacher! I don't care about the ser- 
mons. I don't go to Church, because there's no excitement." 
Another will say : " I don't go to Church, because it is the 
pleasantest hour of the Sunday, and I like to take a walk in 
the fresh air." Another one will say: "Well, I have my own 
notions ; I have read for myself, and I think I know more than 
these men who preach ; and I don't go to Church, because I think 
I know more than they." The Protestant faith so stands, prac- 
tically, at this hour, that there is very little faith to be found 
amongst the cultivated intellect that belongs to it. Very little 
faith ! The very foundations of Protestant faith are being to- 
day uprooted by the hands of Protestant clergymen. I would 
not say this if I did not know it. You have, at this day, 
among the very finest writers in Europe, some Protestant cler- 
gymen, who are suspected of infidelity, from their writings. 
One of them will begin an essay by saying it is a very doubtful 
thing whether the Scriptures are the inspired Word of God at 
all. Another will begin an essa}- by saying : "We admit the 
inspiration of the Scriptures ; but it only teaches a certain 
moral law. There is nothing supernatural in it — nothing about 
Almighty God, or about His revelations to be based on it. 
Another will throw a doubt on the Divinity of Jesus Christ. 
All these things have been mooted. All these things have 
been said. My Catholic friends, you don't know what the 
Protestant world is without you. You don't know what a 
state of confusion there is there — there where the Anglican 
bishops in England have cited Protestant clergymen for infidel- 



The Wants of Society. 



ity; have proved the infidelity ; and where the Queen, by a 
statute, told them they were free to exercise their functions, and 
they were free to teach the people. Some of the very first dig- 
nitaries of the Church in England to-day, are men suspected 
of an utter want of belief in the revealed Word of God. 
And yet there are Anglican clergymen, high in position and 
dignity, and in the pulpit every Sunday teaching the people the 
Gospel — God bless the mark. What follows from this want of 
faith ? Oh, my dear brethren and friends, wherever the mind of 
of man is not thoroughly convinced — wherever man has not the 
certainty of knowledge — wherever the whole intellect is not filled 
with light, there, most assuredly, in that man's conduct, and in 
that man's life, you will find the works of darkness, and the taint 
of infidelity and impurity. The man who, intellectually, from 
want of faith, is an infidel to his God — that man, certainly, will 
not be faithful to that being that, next to God, has the deepest, 
and the most solemn, and the most sacred claim upon him ; 
namely, the wife of his bosom. From that want of faith, from that 
want of that certain conviction of all that faith teaches us, grows 
het awful impurity of this age of ours. My friends, I must call it 
awful impurity." I read in the history of the world of great 
sins — great sins in past times. I read of kings rising up and, in 
the foul desires of their lustful hearts, violating every law. But 
I read in those times of the strong voice of the Pope of Rome, 
and the strong arm from the Vatican put out to threaten and to 
coerce them, if not into the pathways of purity, at least into 
those of public decency and morality. I read, in the past, of 
great sins and great sinners ; but I read also that they excited 
the indignation of society ; and that the greatest sinner of them 
all never attempted to justify his sin, or to legalize it, or to 
obtain for it the approbation of his fellow-man, or of the laws of 
his country. But we come to this nineteenth century, and what 
do we find ? We find the inconstancy and the infidelity of man 
legalized, acknowledged by the State, in that most infamous, 
most unchristian, most unholy law by which a man is permitted, 
by the laws of the land, to break the bond that he contracted in 
marriage before the altar of God, and to divorce the pure, and 
holy, and high-minded wife, who was the first mistress of his 
earliest love. I find in this one act — the act of divorce — the 
legislation that severs the bond that God has made— the legis- 



« 



6i8 



The Catholic Church and 



lation that tells the woman, no matter how pure she be, no 
matter how holy she be, that she is never secure in her position, 
that she is never safe from some base conspiracy, originating in 
the depravity of her husband, anxious to be rid of her, anxious to 
shake off the incumbrance of her purity and her virtue, and 
trumping up an accusation against her — that she is never secure 
from the insidious designs and diabolical conspiracy of that 
man ; that she may not be driven forth from his house, covered 
with ruin, her name dishonored, her position lost, and not 
knowing where to turn in her mid-career of life or in her old 
age — the aba'ndoned, the injured, the down-trodden Avoman — 
because the State and the laws have given that man 
power to do it. I find this demon of impurity thus destroy- 
ing the mother's hold upon her children — taking from the 
wife's brow that crown which _God set there, who said to 
her, in matrimony, thou shalt be this man's queen ; thou shalt 
be his partner ; thou shalt be his equal, and no hand shall 
sunder you two until the angel of death comes to lay one of you 
in the tomb ; I find, beside this iniquitous law of divorce, that 
this awful sin of impurity — this sense of a want of all re- 
sponsibility before God — this feeling of perfect license — has 
affected the young, has grown up with their age, has entered 
into their blood, has made the young boy, growing into man- 
hood, think that everything was lawful for him, until it has be- 
come the social pest and the social evil of our days. I need not 
tell you, nor lead you into details about that with which, unfor- 
tunately, the press of this country has made us all too familiar. 
The dreadful sins that now and then turn up, creep out to 
terrify us, to make every modest woman in the land vail her 
face for shame, and every modest man feel the blood rushing to 
his brows, in shame and indignation ; the murders that are 
committed; the foul, nameless crimes that are accumulated; 
the awful infidelities that disgrace the world in our day; 
the dreadful crimes that, from day to day, are registered 
before our eyes, until it has come to this, that' no man or 
woman, valuing his or her soul, can, with safety, take up a 
daily journal ; for it may contain we know not what abomination ; 
nor do we know what abominable crime is to be put straight 
before our eyes. Whence comes all this ? Was there ever an 
2tcre — and I don't believe there ever was — since Christ died for 



TJie Wants of Society. 



619 



man, in which this dreadful sin has so propagated itself as in this, 
our day — this dreadful sin — this sin, that, three times, called 
down the avenging hand of God upon man, and always with a 
sweeping ruin that destroyed a whole world, or a whole nation. 
It was the sin of defilement, or of impurity that made Almighty 
God, in the first Flood draw back the bolts of Heaven, and 
rain down on mankind that deluge of water that washed away 
the whole human race, and destroyed it. It was the self-same 
sin, repeated again, that made the same Almighty arm once 
more withdraw the bolts of Heaven and rain down upon Pen- 
tapolis, upon the valleys by the Dead Sea, a deluge, no 
longer of water, but of fire. Living fire came forth, enkindled 
by the indignation of a God of purity, sweeping away great 
cities, and a whole nation. It was that very same sin, repeated 
again, that made the Almighty God send forth that terrible 
command to the children of Israel : that the tribe of Benjamin 
should be destroyed " and all the cities and villages of Benjamin 
were consumed with devouring flames. So that a whole tribe, 
and a whole nation was wiped out of Israel, because of 
that detestable, that fearful sin ; of which St. Paul speaks, 
when he says : Brethren, let it not be so much as named 
among you ! " Well, this is the sin which to-day has assumed 
such proportions that it has actually lost its shame. I say, it 
has lost its shame I I say it in the face of a community which 
has been insulted, as New York was insulted on last Good 
Friday evening, whilst we. Catholics, were weeping at the foot 
of the Cross ; whilst we. Catholics, knelt there with Mary Mag- 
dalene, and Mary, the Virgin Mother, and the glorious friend, 
St. John — whilst we. Catholics, were weeping over the feet of 
our Lord Jesus Christ, dead upon the Cross, on last Good 
Friday evening, a woman — a woman calling herself a modest 
woman — had a congregation — an audience — to hear her whilst 
she blasphemed against purity, and advocated the detestable 
principles of free and indiscriminate love ' 

My friends, do not imagine that when I speak thus, that I 
mean the slightest reflection upon American society, or upon 
American Protestantism ? Well do I know that, whatever is 
vile, whatever is wicked, whatever is unwomanly, unmaidenly, 
or impure, is as foreign to American society as to any in this 



620 



TJie Cat J 10 lie Church and 



world. Well do I know, that nowhere upon this earth is there 
an intelligence, a mind, a heart, that rises against all this with 
more bitter indignation than the intelligence, and the mind, and 
the heart of Protestant America. These things, and such as 
these, are a sorrow, not only to us Catholics, but equally to our 
respected, high-minded, pure-minded Protestant fellow-men and 
fellow-women in the land. And I beg of you, therefore, to 
understand distinctly, that when I speak in denunciation of 
these things, I denounce them, and I denounce the badness of 
our age, not only to you Catholics, but to my American 
Protestant fellow-citizens. And, well do I know, that, whatever 
is bad, or vile, that I here denounce as a priest, in that 
denunciation, I shall meet the sympathy of them, the American 
Protestants, just as lively, just as pure-minded, just as holy in 
their indignation, as your sympathy, my Catholic fellow-citizens. 

The third great want of our age — (I am ashamed to say it) — 
is, as it seems to me, to be common honesty. Formerly, (and 
you hear old people speaking still of " the good old days" gone 
by,) people were plain and simple-minded, and it was easy 
to get through the world ; but, now, as the old people say, 

everybody is so mighty sharp, and so cunning, and they are 
so apt to turn a corner upon you ! " Formerly, if you bought 
a piece of cloth to make you a suit of clothes, you might rea- 
sonably rely upon it ; now-a-days, you must look sharp, or 
you will get shoddy." In former times, as I heard an old man 
say, you could buy a pair of shoes, and they would last you 
all the winter. Now-a-days they make them, so that when 
the wet weather comes in, in a few days they come apart. In 
former days a man knew what he was going to eat ; now he 
must look very sharp, indeed ! His food may be adulterated, 
or before he knows it, he may be half poisoned by what he is 
eating. So much for commercial honesty. 

What shall we say of international honesty? Shocked as 
we have been at the mutual accusations and recriminations of 
powerful statesmen and rulers in this our day. As for instance 
when Napoleon and Bismarck accused each other of designs 
upon Belgium and the world w^as astounded at their revelations. 
We have beheld the unjust invasion of Denmark, the iniquitous 
usurpations of Victor Emanuel, the fraudulent designs of 
Russia upon Turkey, in a word, the principle practically estab- 



TJie Wants of Society. 



621 



lished that right, justice, treaties solemnly made and ratified, are 
in this day no security against invasion and spoliation. Inter- 
national law seems abolished, else why have, as in Europe, five 
millions of men under arms. This is international honesty, in 
this our day. Do we not see that among all the nations there 
is no longer the slightest regard for principle or for treaties, 
or for right? Not the slightest! There is Russia. She is build- 
ing up Sebastopol again ; Sebastopol that was destroyed by the 
French and the English, and which Russia swore a solemn oath 
she would never build up again. She is going at it now, openly 
and energetically, because France is now down in the dust, and 
England's hands are tied behind her back. So much for inter- 
national honesty. 

What shall we say of political principle — of political honesty ? 
we hear nothing, now-a-days, but accusations against this man 
and that man ; this " Ring " and that "Ring." Nothing but 
confusion! Impeachment here; accusation there! One day 
a judge is impeached. Another day some other high official. So 
many thousand dollars embezzled. Such and such crimes com- 
mitted. This is the whole history of politics, so far as I can see 
it. Whether these accusations are true or false I cannot tell, 
because I do not know the facts. Yet I believe there is some 
truth in them ; but I also believe there is a great deal of false- 
hood in them. But such is the idea that the journals of the 
day give us of political honesty. 

Oh, my friends, would it not be very pleasant if the servants 
who live in the house with us were more honest ? If we, our- 
selves, were more honest in our dealings with our fellow-men, 
commercially? If the nations were more honest, and had a little 
more respect each for every other's rights ? If politicians were 
a little more honest? These are the great questions involved 
in this branch of the subject. 

I believe, that if all men were to have a certain ''knowledge 
of divine truth " — a certain knowledge — no doubt of it — no 
cavilling in opinion — if we were able to talk to every man's 
mind, and say: " See here, my friend ! There is the law ; you 
must acknowledge it. You know it is true ; you must act 
up to it." That is faith. If we had that unity of thought; if 
we were all one in the unity of one belief, if we all admitted 
the necessity of one thing, and believed it ought to be done — 



622 



The Catholic CJiurcJi and 



and if, in addition to that, and from that, followed the self- 
restraint, the purity of life, the integrity of nature preserved 
in the youug by an absence of all these nameless and hideous 
excesses — if the fidelity of God to His Church was impersonated 
and typified in the grand fidelity of man to his wife, and of the 
woman to her husband — and if, in addition to all this, man had 
a sense of his responsibility in every relation in which he 
stands to his fellow-man, and to society: and if morality and 
honesty were so enjoined on each and every one of us, that we 
would not dare to be dishonest, because of the consequences — 
behold, the three great evils of society are healed, and the 
three great wants of society are supplied. 

Now, I carne here this evening, my friends, to point out the 
wants of society to you, to show you what they are — and I 
think, you will acknowledge that, so far, I have not exag- 
gerated. 

Now, the second part of my business this evening, here, is to 
show you that there is only one power upon this earth that is 
able to meet these three wants, and supply them ; that there is 
only one power on this earth that is able to remedy these three 
enormous evils ; and she is able to do it only because she comes 
from God — and that power is the Holy Rorfian Catholic Church. 
She, alone, can create faith. She, alone, can create purity. 
She, alone, can guarantee honesty. And thus, she, alone, can 
meet the three great wants of this age of ours. She alone can 
create faith. She comes to us in this nineteenth century and 
says : " Hear my voice and believe me ! " If we ask her. 
What right have you to say this to us?" She answers: I 
am the Church of Jesus Christ ; " no other Church lays claim to 
these my attributes, except myself. I ask you to believe Him 
who said : He that will not hear the Church, let him be as a 
heathen, or an infidel." I ask you to believe Him who 
said: You may rely upon the Church, for I have, built 
My Church upon a rock and the gates of hell shall never 
prevail against it. I ask you to believe my word upon 
the word of Him who said : You may rely upon the Church 
that she can never teach you a lie. For I will send my 
Spirit of Truth upon her to guide her into all truth, and to be 
with her until the end of time ; and lo ! I, myself, said He, 
am with her all days, until the consummation of the world. 



The Wants of Society. 623 

Any man who believes this — who believes that these are the 
words of the God of Truth — is bound, as a reasonable being, 
to bow down before the Church, and say: "Speak! speak 
to me, oh messenger of God! You have proved by your 
diploma that you have come to me from God ! No other religion 
even puts in a claim to this but you. Speak, therefore, you, 
and I will hear your voice, as the voice of God !" What other 
religion claims it, I ask you ? Does the Protestant religion 
claim this authority, and say: Hear me, for I come from 
God? No; the boast of Protestantism is that it has removed 
that slavery of the human intellect that bound man to hear the 
voice of the Church, as if it was the voice of God. In other 
words. Protestantism rests upon the principle that says to every 
man : You are the best judge yourself. Go ; look in the 
Book. Put your own interpretation on it ; your private judg- 
ment is the principle of faith. Theirs is no voice that can say: 
Hear me, for I come from God ! But if these words of Scrip- 
ture be true, then, my friends, nothing remains for us but to 
take the Word as it comes from the lips of the Church of God ; 
and that Word is our faith. The Protestant Avill say: Don't 
speak so, O friar ! Don't speak so, thou bigot of the thir- 
teenth century ! We have long forgotten you, and your white 
and black habit! Go back to your cloister! Go back to rot 
and fester in your monastic idleness, and in your monastic garb 
of poverty! We have outgrown you — we of the nineteenth 
century. We get our faith from the Bible — the written Word 
of God ! But I ask you, before you accept that as the foun- 
tain of your faith, does not that very Bible tell you that faith 
comes, not by reading, but by hearing ; and that hearing comes 
by the Word of God spoken and that the man that speaks 
that Word must be sent by Almighty God ? Faith comes by 
hearing," says St. Paul, " and hearing by the Word of God. 
How shall they hear without a preacher, and how shall they 
preach unless they be sent ? " Therefore, the man that comes 
to create Faith must come with a living voice; that voice must 
be the voice of authority ; and whilst he speaks to his fellow- 
man, he must be able, with his right band, to point to a com- 
mission received from God. Where is that commission to be 
found, save and except in the Catholic Church, that goes up, 
step by step, and year by year, until she says: ''I am here. 



624 



TJie Catholic Church and 



speaking to you to-night by the voice of the least and most un- 
worthy of my commissioned and sent children ; but I was pres- 
ent, on Easter morning with Peter and John, when we en- 
tered an empty grave, and we heard from angels the words : 
' Why seek you the living with the dead? He is risen. He is 
no longer here !' " This is the Catholic Church. She alone can 
create Faith. She alone can give knowledge. The nations are 
groping about like children, with a film over their eyes. They 
are seeking what they are to believe ; I believe this ; you be- 
lieve that ; you are wrong, and I am right." " No ; but I am 
right, and you are wrong ! " And in the midst of all this stands 
the living Church ; the voice that spoke and resounded when He 
struck the key-note — and that was on the day when he said : 
Go and preach to all the nations ; teach them, with loving 
care, all that I have spoken to you. And I am with you all 
days, even until to the consummation of the world ! 

Does the Catholic Church create purity? Well, my friends, 
this is a subject on which it is difficult to speak to a mixed 
audience, such as I have here this evening. And yet, I feel 
bound to speak plainly and clearly to you. The Catholic Church 
creates purity. In what does purity consist ? My friends, there 
are two natures in man. There is the nature of the body — 
gross, material, corrupt, base, vile — of the slime of the earth. 
And there is the nature of the soul — spiritual, God-like, 
heavenly — for it comes from heaven — from the lips of God. 
These two natures meet in man, not as friends, but as enemies. 
They do not join hands and say : Let us work together for all 
the eternal purposes of Him who created us. But the spirit 
says to the flesh: I must subdue you! And the flesh says 
to the spirit : No ; but I will drag you down with me into 
hell ! Thus it is that the two natures, the spiritual and the 
corporal, meet in man. The soul, in this contest with the body, 
has divine faith — light, example, and grace. The body has 
its passions, its inclinations, its base desires. It has what are 
called, now-a-days, in the blasphemous jargon of the nineteenth 
century, the necessities of its nature ! " The virtue of purity 
is that form of divine grace by which the soul, the spiritual 
nature, the angelic element in man is able to assert itself, to rise 
into all the glory of its imperial power, and to say to that body, 
base, and vile, and earthly as it is. No, you must not govern 



The Wants of Society. 



625 



me ! You must not enslave me ! You must not have a single 
desire, nor gratify a single wish, except what I consent to ! 
And this is purity ; the power of the soul over the body — the 
power of the intelligence and of the will over the depraved pas- 
sions of that low, debased, and fallen nature which is in this 
flesh of ours. The more perfect that purity rises into the com- 
plete empire of soul over body, the more like does that virtue 
make a man unto Jesus Christ, the God of infinite purity. The 
more perfectly the body is subdued, the more perfectly all its 
passions are annihilated, the more easily and imperiously all 
temptations are swept out of the way, so that the soul may go 
on in its course to God, the more perfect is the purity of that 
man. And that highest form of purity is called virginal 
purity." 

Now, my friends, in the designs of God, in creation, every- 
thing takes its type from something above itself. Everything 
looks to the most perfect of its species. The Catholic Church 
creates purity amongst the people because she creates a perfect 
type of purity in her priesthood and in her sanctuary. The 
Catholic Church says to the people : Oh, you men — oh, yoi£ 
husbands — be faithful, be pure, be self-restrained men ! Look 
at your fellow-men in the sanctuary ! Look at the men who. 
minister unto me at my altars ! Behold, I have taken them in 
the bloom of their youth, in the strength of their manhood ; and 
I have enabled them so to annihilate their passions and their 
bodies, that no thought, or shadow of a thought to sin allied, is 
ever allowed to linger in its passage across their imagination : 
that no act unworthy an angel of God is ever committed by 
them : that they are in the flesh, indeed, but exalting the spirit 
over that flesh ; and therefore it is that I admit them to my 
most holy altar, because they are complete victories, and 
the embodiments of victory, over their passions. In the 
purity of her priesthood, in the virginal purity of her priest, 
and monk, and nun, the Church of God proves to the 
world that this high virtue* is possible ; that it is easy and 
feasible to man ; and that all that any man has to do is to look, 
up to Jesus Christ in prayer, and in sacrifice, and in humility,, 
in order to obtain that gift of innocence and purity which is the 
adornment of the Christian soul. 

Still more, the Church of God, the Catholic Church, in hec 

40 



626 



The Catholic CJmrcJi and 



system of education, ensures the virtue of purity in the young. 
She takes the Httle boy or the little girl, with the dews of their 
baptismal innocence upon them, before their minds are open to 
the comprehension, or their passions excited to the enjoyment 
of anything evil. She places them under the care of her precep- 
tors — her Christian Brothers, her monks, her nuns ; she sur- 
rounds them with every influence that breathes only of God, 
and of the Virgin, and of the Virgin's Son, and of the highest 
purity. She teaches them, from their earliest infancy, to 
look to our Divine Lord, and to his Virgin Mother, and to 
behold in both of them, shining forth, the gift of the infinite 
purity of God ; and she teaches them that this is the highest 
form of virtue. She infuses into the young soul her sacra- 
mental graces. She brings the child — with the dews of his bap- 
tismal innocence upon him — face to face with the Lord God in 
the Holy Communion ; and upon those innocent Hps, that never 
murmured a word of evil, and in that innocent heart that has 
never thought a thought unholy, does she place her Divine 
Lord in all the strength, in all the majesty of His holiness, to 
communicate Himself to the little one — to make that little one 
even as He was in the happy days when, in Nazareth, He grew 
up under Mary's hands. 

More, she ensures domestic holiness, upon the foundation of 
domestic purity. She tells the husband and the wife that they 
are bound together by a bond, upon which the Church of God 
has set her sacramental seal, and that no authority on earth, no 
power in this world, no circumstance that may arise, can ever 
destroy that bond, or separate that husband from the wife. She 
tells that man, that, no matter what trust he may break, no 
matter what obligation he may be unfaithful to, there is one to 
which he must remain faithful to the last hour of his life ; and 
that is the obligation of pure love, and of undivided homage to 
the wife of his bosom. No matter what circumstances may 
come ; no matter how fortune may smile or frown ; for better 
or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, till death 
do them part ; and whoever comes in, no matter what he says, 
no matter what he is, no matter how powerful a king, no matter 
how great the legislature that comes in and pretends to sever 
and destroy this sacred bond, to such a one the Church of God 
says : Destroy me if you can, shed my blood if you will, but 



TJie Wants of Society. 



627 



I stand between you and that woman ; with all the power of 
God, and with a blessing and with a curse, I stand between you 
and that woman ; and I tell you your word is null and void ; 
she shall never be parted from her husband ; she shall never lose 
his love, nor his devotion, nor his homage, till death comes to 
part them ! Thus the woman is secured in her position. My 
friends, don't be angry with me if I say it ; consider if it be 
true ; if it be not true, take it as if it were not said ; but, if 
it be true, consider it well. Consider it well. Oh, you ladies, 
who are present, who may not be Catholics ; the only lady, 
the only wife that is perfectly secure, that can rest quietly 
without a thought, or a fear, or an anticipation of ever being 
disturbed from her sacred position of wife and of mother, is 
the woman over whose marriage the Catholic Church has set 
her sacramental hand and seal. She is the only queen that 
can never be dethroned ; the only empress from whose brow 
no hand can pluck the honorable and magnificent crown of 
the pure Christian wife and Christian mother. And, therefore, 
I hold that the Catholic Church, in her system of education ; 
in the example of her priesthood and her consecrated ones ; in 
her teaching ; in her securing the matrimonial bond as most 
inviolable, has secured unto the world, in addition to the gift of 
faith, the magnificent gift of chastity. 

But what about the public and private honesty? What is she 
able to do here ? you will ask. Well, my friends, there are two 
ways of dealing with a man in this respect. The first is, to try 
and save a man from being a thief, if you can ; and if you don't 
succeed in making him honest, get hold of him as soon as you 
can afterwards and take whatever he foully got from him. If 
you can save him from being a thief, so much the better. But 
the next best thing is to catch the thief and open his pockets, 
take out of them whatever was stolen, and give it back to the 
decent man that it belonged to. Here, sir, this is yours. 
There it is. This property is yours. It was taken out of 
your house yesterday. I have the thief! " Now, there is no 
power that can do this except the Catholic Church. First 
of all, ■ there is no power that can save a man from com- . 
mitting a theft except the power that masters his conscience, 
that lays hold of his conscience. Now, mark. You may sin 
against God. You may do a great many bad things. If yoix 



628 



The Catholic Church arid 



are penitent and sorry, you get absolution. There is an end 
of it. God Almighty forgives you freely whatever you do 
against Him. But, remember; if your sin be against your 
neighbor ; if you be guilty of the slightest act of thievery or 
injustice against your neighbor — Almighty God will not forgive 
you until you have given back what you have stolen — Almighty 
God will not forgive you unless you make restitution. If I, for 
instance, offend God ; and, in the silence of my chamber, I beseech 
God to pardon me, and I am afterwards sorry and kneel down at 
my confessor's knee ; make a confession ; tell my sin ; express my 
sorrow ; make my resolution that, with God's help, I will never 
do the like again, the priest will say: "You have committed a 
terrible sin ; you have blasphemed God in your anger ; you have 
blasphemed the attributes of God ; you have invoked the devil 
to help you in your anger or despair ; — but you are sorry. Now, 
with three words," he says, " I absolve thee in the name of the 
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost." It was a sin against God only, of 
which you were guilty. Whatever we are sorry for, God forgives 
us freely. But whenever an offence against God involves also 
an offence against our neighbor, it becomes quite a different 
thing, my friends. If, in the same manner, I go to confession 
and say to the priest : Father, I was very angry with a man, 
and I wanted to have revenge on him ; and I went to his 
employers and told them the man was a dishonest man ; and 
they discharged him ; and he has been out of work now for 
three weeks ;" the confessor will say: "Was it true or false 
what you told them ? " " Father, it was a lie." " And he is 
three weeks out of work now? " " Yes." " How much was he 
earning a week?" "Ten dollars a week." "My man," the 
confessor will say, " you will have to give that man thirty 
dollars ; and you will have to go to his employers and tell 
them that you are a liar ; that you have slandered that man 
unjustly." The man will say, perhaps: " I cannot very well do 
it ; I have only twenty dollars altogether." The priest will 
say : " You must do it, my son ; if you do not, I cannot give 
you absolution." " But, Father, you cannot ask me to go and 
make a liar of myself? " " 'Tis tio use, my son," the priest 
will answer ; " for as you told a lie on the man before, you 
must go and tell the truth now. It is not now you will make 
yourself a liar, when you go to have him reinstated. You made 



The Wants of Society. 



629 



yourself a liar when you got the man turned out ; but until you 
get that man reinstated — until you get him back in his place — 
until you make up his character — until you make up his loss, 
you cannot be absolved here ! It's no use ! You cannot go to 
your Easter duty : I cannot let you ! " If, now, in addition 
to this, this man says that after getting his neighbor out of 
employment by saying he was a thief, he met three or four 
others and told it to them ; and they spread the story about the 
neighborhood, then the priest will say : Well, my son, when 
you have paid the thirty dollars, and got the man back in his 
situation, there is yet another thing you must do. Vou must 
go about again among the neighbors, and tell them that what 
you said was all a lie ! " Why? Because you have robbed that 
man of his reputation. This is Catholic duty, as enforced in the 
confessional ! What is there more likely to keep a man honest 
than the perfect knowledge that he cannot be a thief ? If a man 
could say, " I will rob my employer of a thousand dollars, taking 
twenty at a time, and he will not miss it ; afterwards I will lead 
a good life ; I will do penance before God ; I will become an 
elder in the Church ; and I will preach on Sundays, sometimes, 
myself. Besides, nobody will mi'ss it, and nobody will be the 
worse for it — if a man could say that, what a strong temp- 
tation would it not be to take it ? But the Catholic cannot do 
it. I remember, since I came to America, hearing of a man 
who came to a Catholic, somewhere down South, and made 
this proposal : You will vote for me, and I will vote for 
you ; we can thus make twelve hundred dollars and divide 
them between us." " Well," said the other, I cannot do 
that, but I'll tell you what I will do. If you give me a 
thousand I will let you have the two hundred. For I can 
tell you," said he, " that sooner or later I must make restitu- 
tion, because I am a Catholic ; but you will have the two 
hundred, scot-free. You have no restitution to make ! " Who 
is it that catches the thief? Why, for one thief the State lays 
hold of, a thousand thieves escape. For every one man that the 
State lays hold of and brings to trial for robbery or corruption, 
how many are never detected, or, if detected, elude justice ? 
The money is all gone, and all the courts can do is to send the 
offender to the penitentiary, or put him on the tread-mill. But 
that will not get back one penny of the money. The Catholic 



630 



The Catholic Church and 



Church alone lays hold of the thief; she catches him in the 
Confessional. How much did you take ? " Twenty thou- 
sand." Then you have to give back every penny of it." The 
Catholic Church alone so lays hold of the thief that it enables 
those who were plundered to get their own again. Perhaps 
you say this is never done ? I deny it. I say it is within my own 
knowledge, as indeed of every priest actively engaged on the 
mission, that sumis amounting in the aggregate to something 
enormous are constantly being restored through the Confes- 
sional. Who catches the thief? Why, this is well known in 
England ; and, I believe, in this country. A great many Prot- 
estant families have Catholic servants, because they know they 
cannot steal from them. I once met when on the English 
mission a Protestant clergyman, who assured me that he made 
it a point to employ Catholic servants, and always insisted on 
their going to the sacraments. When I observed to him that 
he spoke like one who believed in the efficacy of the sacra- 
ments, he replied: " I cannot say that I believe in their effi- 
cacy, but I know that so long as my people go to Confes- 
sion and Communion, my property and my children are safe 
in their hands." This is the Catholic Church ; the reality of 
religion. I cannot help feeling indignant, from the very love 
I have for my fellow-men, for the very love I have for this glori- 
ous land, where I would very willingly spend the rest of my 
life, if I were only allowed — I cannot help feeling indignant 
whenever I see an unreal thing, a sham, held up and called by 
the name of " religion." Why, religion, w^herever it is, if it be 
true, must get into a man's soul, must make him a pure man, 
must make him an honest man. It must make him an hum- 
ble man, believing in God with all his heart and soul — leaning 
upon Christ, his Saviour, with all his heart and soul — not 
clinging to any other name, or any other power, save that of 
Jesus Christ, the Son of God, his Saviour. But, in clinging to 
Him by faith, he must also approach Him with pure hands. 
We hear men speaking of ''hanging on to the Lord;" of 
''grasping the Lord;" of "laying hold of the Saviour;" but 
if their hands are not pure ! W^ould the Virgin's Son allow 
the impure man to approach Him ! No ; that man is the worst 
blasphemer who would speak of Christ with impure lips, or 
speak of touching Him, unless his hands are pure. Religion, 



The Wants of Society, 



631 



wherever it is, must enter into man's life in his relations with 
his fellow-man, must create in him a sense, a constant, abiding 
sense, of his responsibility to God and to his fellow-man. Con- 
sequently, it must make him " as honest as the sun," as we say 
in Ireland. And if it do not do this, it is no religion. 

Now, my Catholic friends, one word, and I have done, for I 
greatly fear I have trespassed on your patience. The citizens 
of America may well say to me, and to the like of me, This is 
all very beautiful in theory ; but, is it so in practice, amongst 
your people ? Are your people, are you, that are always boast- 
ing about being an Irishman, throwing up your hands about 
Ireland, talking about Irish glory, and all that, are your fellow- 
countr}'men, in this country, the pure, honest men that you 
speak of? " I answer, if they are true Catholics, they are all that 
I describe them to be. I am not describing bad Catholics. But 
I say to every man that speaks to me, either as an Irishman, or 
as a priest, I say : If, as Irishmen, they are true to their 
country's traditions, they are all that I describe them to be. 
And, as a Catholic priest, I say, if they are true to their religion, 
they are all, my friends, that I describe them to be. What re- 
mains? What remains, men of Ireland — men of the Catholic 
Church ? What remains, but for you and me to be what vv^e 
ought to be ? For you and me to be what our forefathers before 
us were, the cream of the earth ! The light of the world was 
ancient Ireland ! The joy of Christendom was ancient Ireland. 
The glory of the Catholic Church was ancient Ireland. What 
remains, but for us to be what our fathers before us were, so 
faithfully, in the days of joy or of sorrow ? What remains for 
me to be, but all that the Catholic Church tells me I ought to 
be, and all that Ireland's history tells me the monks and priests 
of Ireland's history were? What remains for me but, as a 
Catholic, the laws of my Church, and, as an Irishman, the grand 
example of St. Columbanus, St. Patrick, and St. Kevin ! And 
if you, and I, and all the Irish Catholics in this land, are only 
what our religion commands us to be, or supposes us to be, and, 
I will add — and this is the great point — enables us to be, if we 
only accept her ministration and her sacraments — if we are only 
that, then shall we be worthy of the esteem and love of our 
American fellow-citizens. Why do I speak of them ? Because, 
Irishmen and Catholics, whom I am addressing, let me tell 



632 



The Catholic Church and 



you, that I have lived in many lands, and I have known 
many people, and I am not accustomed (thanks be to 
God, and I hope I never will be) to speak words of flattery 
or idle speech to any people. I speak the truth as I feel 
it. I speak it as it fits in my mind before the world. 
I say to you, as I am upon this topic, as far as my 
experience leads me, if there is a man upon this earth whose 
love and whose good will I have the ambition to possess he is 
the American citizen. If you and I are what our religion and 
what our history tells us we ought to be, America will have no 
loss, but a great gain in us. America, the grand and glorious 
young country that has never yet violated the traditions of her 
own freedom ; that has never yet denied to the poor emigrant, 
and to the stranger, and to the hunted head, the liberty, and 
the share in that liberty which she herself enjoyed. To be a 
citizen of America ; to be destined, either in yourselves or in 
your children after you, to guide her councils, and enter into 
the halls of her glorious Legislature ; to be citizens of Amer- 
ica — that is to say, in a few years to shape the destinies of the 
world, and give laws to all the nations — laws founded on justice, 
on religion, and on God — this, I hold, is the highest ambition 
that can enter into the mind of man in this nineteenth century. 
The country that has given you a home, will give you power 
and influence. The nation that has opened her arms to re- 
ceive you, will lift you up in those strong arms to the full height 
and the highest place ; for no mean, miserable, petty bigotry, 
no miserable restriction of race or religion fetters the mind of 
the free man here. This, and all this, will this glorious Amer- 
ica do for us, if we. Catholics and Irishmen, and the sons of 
Irishmen, are all that Catholicity teaches us to be, and all that 
our history points out to us in the traditions of our glorious 
past. Great will be America's gain in the day when the Irish 
element in America, taking shape and form, brings to bear upon 
her councils the magnificent intellect of Ireland, brings into 
her battle-fields the strong, brave, and stalwart arms that were 
never yet idle when a blow was to be struck for freedom. 
Great will be America's gain, all this secured to her by Irish 
fidelity and Irish love for the land of their adoption. Great 
will be America's gain when her sanctuaries and shrines con- 
tinue to be adorned — as they are adorned to-day — by that Irish 



TJic Wants of Society. 



633 



priesthood that has come to this land with the traditions of 
fifteen hundred years of martyrdom and of sanctity about it. 
Great, indeed, will be this nation's future history. I see her as 
she rises before me, magnificent in every proportion of intellec- 
tual and material strength ; I see her combining the best re- 
sources of every land and of every country. In her right 
arm, outstretched in the moment of her highest power, I 
see the energy, the might, the patriotism, and the fidelity of 
Ireland. You remain, but I Avill leave you ; and, if God gives 
me life, I will yet, perhaps, with tears of joy in my eyes, see the 
green hills of Innisfail rise before me. Oh, my friends, let me 
bring home with me the m.essage to the sons of Ireland, to the 
Clan-na-gael — from those who love the old land to those who 
love you there — let me bring home the consoling message to 
them, that Ireland in America is worthy of its new land ; but 
that Ireland in America has not forgotten the old land ; that 
the heart of Ireland beats throbbing in all the energy of youth 
for the glorious future that is before it in America ; but still 
looks back and beholds in the light of memory, across the 
waves, the ever loved and ever dear green land of the saints 
and of our sires. Then, my friends, the ancient land, my home, 
will look with hopeful eyes across the wide Atlantic to the great 
continent that is here ; and whenever an enemy assails her, 
whenever an old tyrant comes to hang an old chain upon her, 
Ireland will rise up, indignant in her strength, and say: ''Oh, 
tyrant I Oh, oppressor ! remember I have strong sons over the 
ocean who will strike a blow for me! I am not abandoned. I 
am not all-forsaken, though in my old age. I am the mother 
of the strong race, the intellectual race, the powerful race, that, 
some day or other, will bring the mighty energies of the ' Great 
Countr}^' to bear upon, to crush — aye, and to trample into the 
dust the foul hand that was ever raised to strike dear old Ire- 
land!" 



THE DIVINE COMMISSION OF 
THE CHURCH. 



[Preached in the Church of St. Vincent Ferrer, New York, on Sunday morning, 
Tune i6th, 1872.] 

At that time ; It came to pass, that when the multitude pressed upon him, to hear 
the word of God, he stood by the lake of Genesareth. And he saw two ships standing 
by the lake ; but the fishermen were gone out of them, and were washing their nets. 
And going up into one of the ships that was Simon's, he desired him to draw back a 
little from the land. And sitting, he taught the multitude out of the ship. Now, 
when he had ceased to speak, he said to Simon : Launch out into the deep, and let 
down your nets for a draught. And Simon answering, said to him : Master, we have 
labored all the night, and have taken nothing ; but at thy word I will let down the 
net. And when they had done this, they enclosed a very great multitude of fishes, 
and their net broke. And they beckoned to their partners that were in the other 
ship, that they should come and help them. And they came and filled both the ships, 
so that they were almost sinking. Which when Simon Peter saw, he fell down at 
Jesus' knee, saying : Depart from ine, for I am a sinful man, O Lord. For he was 
wholly astonished, and all that were with him, at the draught of the fishes that were 
taken. And so were also James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who were Simon's 
partners. And Jesus saith to Simon : Fear not ; from henceforth thou shalt catch 
men. And having brought their ships to land, leaving all things, they followed Him, 

HEN we read the positive doctrines laid down in the 
Gospel, we are bound to open our minds to the utter- 
ances of the Almighty God. We are also bound to 
meditate upon even what appear to be the most 
trifling incidents recorded in the actions and sayings of Jesus 
Christ. Every word that is recorded of Him has a deep and 
salutary meaning. There is not one word in the Gospel, nor 
one incident, that is not full of instruction for us ; and the 
evidence that this Gospel gives of the divinity of the Christian 
religion, and of the divine origin of the Church, lies not only in 
the broad assertion — such, for instance, as where Christ says : 
" I will build My Church upon a rock; and the gates of hell 




TJie Divine Conimission of t lie Church. 



635 



shall not prevail against it ; " or, elsewhere: " He that will not 
hear the Church let him be to thee as a heathen and a pub- 
lican ;" but these evidences lie also in the minor incidents which 
are so carefully and minutely recorded from time to time by the 
Evangelists. 

Now, I ask you to consider in this spirit the Gospel which 
I have just read to you. St. Peter — who was afterwards the 
Pope of Rome — began life as a fisherman, on the shores of the 
Sea of Galilee. He had his boats, he had his nets ; he swept 
those waters, pursuing his humble trade in conipany with James 
and John, the sons of Zebedee, and with Andrew, his own elder 
brother. These men had passed the night upon the bosom of 
the waters, toiling and laboring, but they had taken nothing. 
Sad and dispirited for so much time and labor lost, they landed 
from their boats in the morning : and they took out their nets to 
wash them. Whilst they were thus engaged, a great multitude 
appeared in sight— men who followed the Lord Jesus Christ, 
and pressed around Him, that they might hear the words of 
divine truth from His lips. He came to the shores of the lake, 
and he entered into one of the boats ; and the Evangelist takes 
good care to tell us that the boat into which the Saviour stepped 
was Simon Peter's boat. He then commanded Peter to push 
out a little from the land, that he might have a little water be- 
tween Him and the people, and yet not remove Himself so far 
from them but that they might hear his voice. There — whilst 
the people stood reverently listening to the law of the divine 
Redeemer— sat the Saviour, in Peter's boat, instructing the 
multitude. After He had enlightened their minds with the treas- 
ures of the divine wisdom which flowed from Him, he turned to 
Peter and said to him : " Launch out into the deep, and let 
down your nets for a draught." Peter, answering, said : 
" Master, we have labored all night ; and we have taken 
nothing. However, he replied, in Thy word I trust ; and at 
Thy command I will let down the net. No sooner does 
he cast that net into the sea, under the eyes, and at the 
command of Jesus Christ, than it is instantly filled with 
fishes, and Peter's boat is filled until it is almost sinking. 
This is the fact recorded. What does it mean? What is 
the meaning of this passage in the Gospel? Has it any 
meaning at ah? Was it prophetic of things that were to 



636 



TJie Divine Coniinission of the Church. 



be? Oh, my brethren, how significant and how prophetic, in 
the history of this Christian rehgion, and in the Church, was the 
action of Jesus Christ as recorded in this day's gospel. He sat in 
Peter's boat ; and from that boat He taught the people. What 
does this mean ? What is this bark of Peter? Need I tell you, 
my Catholic friends and beloved brethren, what this bark of 
Peter meant? Christ our Lord built unto Himself His Church! 
He made her so that she was never to be shipwrecked upon the 
stormy waves of this world ; He built her so that He Himself 
shall be always present in her, although Peter sat at the helm. 
He built her so that it was her fate to be launched out upon the 
ever-changing, ever-agitated and stormy sea of this world and 
its society. He declared that Peter should be at the head of 
this ship, when He said to Him : Feed thou my lambs ; feed 
thou my sheep :" Confirm thou thy brethren :" I will make 
you to be fishers of men :" Launch out into the deep, and let 
down your nets for a draught." 

St. Peter himself, inspired of the Holy Ghost, in after times, 
taught that the Church of God was like a goodly ship, built by 
Jesus Christ, in w.hich were to be saved all those that are to be 
saved unto the end of time; for he compares this ship to the 
ark of Noah, in which all who were saved in the great deluge, 
found their refuge ; for he says all were destroyed and perished, 
save and except the eight souls who received shelter in the ark 
of Noah ; and the rest were tossed upon the stormy, tumultu- 
ous billows of the deluge ; throAvn upon the tide ; and as the 
waters rose up around them in mighty volume, the strong man 
w^ent down into the vasty deep ; the infant sent forth a cry, and 
presently its cry was stifled in the surging waves. All ^Vas 
desolation ; all was destruction, save and except the ark, which 
rode triumphant over the waters, passing over the summits of 
the mountains, braving the storms of heaven above and the 
angry waves beneath, until it landed its living freight of eight 
human souls in safety and in joy. So, also, Christ, our Lord, 
built unto him a ship — His Church ; he launched this Church 
forth upon the stormy waves of the world, and it is a matter of 
surprise that this ocean of human society has not welcome for 
the Church of God. Men say, "Is Christianity a failure?" 
Why are so few saved ? Why are so few found to comply with 
the conditions which the Holy Church commands ? Why, if 



TJie Divine Coimnission of the Church, 637 

she received the commission to command the whole world, and 
to convert them, why is it that this Church of God seems to 
have always been persecuted and abused ? Oh ! my friends, 
there is a deep and profound analogy between the things of 
nature and the things of grace. The goodly ship is built upon 
the stocks ; she is strongly built, of the very best material ; she 
is sheathed and plated with everything that can keep her from 
the action of the seas ; she is built so that, in every line, she 
shall cleave through the waters and override them ; and, when 
she is all prepared, she is launched out into the deep ; and her 
mission is to spread her sails, and navigate every sea to the 
furthermost end of the world. Through all of them must she 
go ; over them all must she ride ; a thousand storms must she 
brave ; and that ocean that receives her in its bosom, apparently 
receives her only for the purpose of tossing her from wave to 
wave, of trying her strength, of trying every timber and every 
joint, opening its mighty chasms to swallow her up, and, failing 
in that, dashing its angry waves against her, as if, in the order of 
nature, the ship and the sea were enemies, and that the ocean 
that received that vessel was bent only upon her destruction. Is 
it not thus in the order of nature ? Is it not this very stormy 
ocean, these mighty, foam-crested billows, these angry, roaring 
waves, the thunder that rolls, and the lightnings which flash 
around her — is it not all these that try and prove the goodness 
of the ship ; and if she outlive them — if she is assuredly able to 
override them all and to land her freight and her passengers in 
the appointed port — is it not a proof that she is well built ? If 
the ocean were as smooth as glass ; if the winds were always 
favorable ; if no impediment came upon her : if no waves struck 
her and tried to roll her back, or no chasm opened to receive 
her into its mighty watery bosom ; what proof would we have 
that the ship was the making of the master-hand, under the 
care of master-minds ? And so Christ, our Lord, built the ship 
of His Church, and launched her out upon the world ; and from 
the very nature of the case it was necessary that, from the very 
first day that she set forth, until the last day, when she lands 
her freight of souls in the harbor of heaven, she should meet, 
upon the ocean of this world of human society, the stormy 
waves of angry contradiction on every side. This was her 
destiny, and this, unfortunately, is the destiny that the world 
takes good care to carry out. 



638 The Divine Commission of the Church. 

Men say, Christianity is a failure, because this Church has not 
betn enabled to calm every sea, and ride triumphant, without 
let or hindrance, upon every ocean. I answer, my friends, 
Christianity would have been a failure if the ship had been 
wrecked ; Christianity would be a failure if there was any ocean 
into which that ship was afraid to enter ; Christianity would be a 
failure if that ship were known, at any time — at any moment of 
her existence, since the day she was built and rigged by divine 
wisdom and the divine architect, Christ — if she were known for an 
instant to have gone down ; for a moment to have let the angry 
waters of persecution and error close over her head. Then 
would Christianity be a failure. But this could not be, for two 
reasons. First of all, because the helmsman, whom Christ ap- 
pointed, is at the wheel ; and he is Peter, and Peter's successor. 
Second, because, in the ship. Himself seated in her, and speak- 
ing in her, casting out the nets that are to gather in all those 
who come on board, and are to be saved, is Christ, the Lord our 
God. The great lessons that are in this Gospel are, that Peter's 
boat cannot be wrecked, because Christ, our Lord, is in her ; 
Peter's boat cannot be emptied of the living freight of souls, 
because He is in her who commanded the nets to be cast out 
until the boat was filled ; Peter's boat cannot be destroyed, 
because Peter himself, in his successor, is at the helm. And 
this boat of Peter's is the Holy Roman Catholic Church. In no 
other ship launched out upon this stormy ocean of the world is 
the voice of God heard. In every other vessel it is the voice of 
man that commands the crew ; it is the hand of man that turns 
the ship's prow to face the storm ; it is the hand of man that 
built the ship, and, consequently, every other ship of doctrine 
that has ever been launched out on the waves of this world has 
gone down in shipwreck, and in destruction ; whereas, the old- 
est of all, the Holy Catholic Church, lives upon,the waves to-day, 
as fair to the eye, floating as triumphantly the standard, spread- 
ing as wide a sail as in the days when she came forth from the 
master-hand of Jesus Christ our Lord. In her the word and 
voice of God is heard. Christ sat in Peter's boat ; and Christ 
sits in Peter's boat to-day ; we have His own word for it. 

And heaven and earth," He says, shall pass away, but My 
word shall not pass away, and My word is this : I am with you 
all days, until the consummation of the world." But, for what 



The Divine Coimnission of the CJmrch. 



639 



purpose, did weask, Art Thou with us? He answers, and 
says: I am with you to lead you to all truth ; to keep you in 
all truth ; to teach you all truth ; and to command you, that 
even as I have taught you, so go you and teach all nations 
whatsoever things I have taught you. The voice of Christ is 
in the Church ; the voice of God has never ceased to resound 
in her; the voice of God has never been silent, from the 
day that Marj^'s child first opened His infant lips upon Mary's 
bosom, until the last hour of the world's existence. That voice 
is misinterpreted ; that voice is sometimes misunderstood. ]Men 
say, here is the voice of God, and there is the voice of God ; the 
people lift up their voices with loud demands, sometimes 
against law, sometimes against right and justice, and the time- 
serving politician and statesman says : "It is the voice of the 
people ; it is the voice of God. Vox popiili, vox Dei.'' But the 
voice of the people is not the voice of God. There is, indeed, 
a voice of God resounding on the earth ; but it is only heard in 
the unerring Church; therefore we may say with truth, " Vox 
ecclesice vox Dei the voice of the Church is the voice of God. 
Wherever the voice of God is, there no lie can be uttered, no 
untruth can be taught, no falsehood can be preached ; wherever 
the voice of God is, there is a voice that never for an instant 
contradicts itself in its teachings ; for it is only enunciating one 
truth, derived from one source, the mind, the heart of the 
infinite wisdom of the Almighty. Where is the evidence in 
history of a voice that has ever spoken on this earth, which has 
never contradicted itself, except the voice of the Catholic 
Church ? I defy you to find it. There is not a system of 
religion which pretends to teach the people at this moment 
upon the earth, that has not flagrantly contradicted itself, save 
and except the Holy Catholic Church of Jesus Christ. Take 
any one of them and test it ; where is the voice that teaches 
with authority, save and except in the Catholic Church? Re- 
member wherever the voice of God is, there that voice must 
teach with authority ; wherever the voice of God is, it must 
teach with certainty and clearness and emphasis, not leaving 
anything in doubt, not allowing the people to be under any 
misapprehension. Where is that voice to be heard to-day, 
save and except in the holy Catholic Church ? 

Men say: ''Is Christianity a failure?" I answer, no! It 



640 The Divine Coininissioii of the Church. 

will be a failure as soon as that voice of the Catholic Church is 
hushed ; it will be a failure as soon as some king, or some em- 
peror, or some great statesman, successful in war and in council, 
is able to bend the Catholic Church and make her teach accord- 
ing to his notions or his views. Where, in her history, has she 
ever bowed to king or potentate ? Where has she ever shaped 
her doctrines to meet the views of this man and further the 
designs of this other man because they were able to persecute 
her, as they are persecuting her to-day ? The most powerful 
man of the world says to the Catholic Church, You must re- 
model your teachings ; you must alter some of your dogmas 
and some of your first principles ; you must admit that the 
State has a right to educate the children ; that you have no 
right ; you must admit that religion is not a necessary element 
of education ; I will make you do it." Thus speaks Von Bis- 
marck. He imagines, because he has put his foot upon the 
neck of the bravest and most heroic race upon earth, that now 
he can trample upon the Church of God. Oh ! fool that he is ! 
oh, foolish man! He thinks, because he has trampled upon a 
nation, that he can trample upon Christ and His holy Spouse. 
He says to the Church: ''I will make a decree, and I will ex- 
pel every Jesuit in Germany ; I will persecute your bishops ; 
I will take your churches ; I will alienate your people ; I will 
persecute and imprison your priests ; I will put them to death 
if necessary." But the Church of God stands calmly before 
him, and says : " You can do all this, but you cannot make me 
change my teaching ; I am the messenger and the voice ol God, 
and God is truth ! " Christ speaks in Peter's boat. It is true 
that there are many who will not hear His voice. I ask you 
what is their fate ? What is their fate who refuse to hear the 
voice of the true Church? They appeal to the Scriptures. In 
this morning's New York Herald, there is a letter from a man 
who denies the immortality of the soul : and he proves it by 
*^five texts from Scripture." The very truth that Plato, the 
pagan philosopher, wrote a book to prove — a man who had 
never heard the name of God ; who had never known the light 
of God — by the natural light of his benighted, pagan intellect, 
arrived at the conclusion that the soul was immortal, and that 
its immortality was inherent, and belonged to it as its nature. 
That which the pagan philosopher discovered and proved the 



The Divine Commission of the Church. 641 

Christian of to-day denies ; and he quotes five texts of Scrip- 
ture to prove that the soul of man is not immortal ; and that 
men when they die, even in their sins, cease to exist. They have 
no judgment, no consequences, no vengeance ; for them no tor- 
ments ; they have no hell. He proves it by the Scrip- 
ture, and gives the lie to Him who said, Depart from 
me, ye accursed into everlasting flames." That is the fate 
of all those outside the Catholic Church. They are 
tossed about by every whim and caprice of doctors, who 
now start one theory, and then another ; who now dispute 
the inspiration of the Scripture, and again the Divinity 
of Jesus Christ ; who now deny the immortality of the soul, 
and then come and abuse me, and the like of me, because I 
tell them that until they step on board of Peter's boat 'they 
have no security, no certainty, no true light, no true religion, 
and that they must go down. We are called bigots, because 
we preach the word of God, and refuse to change our teaching 
or to adapt it to the ever varying views of men. If the Church 
preach not the truth, then what use is the Church to the world ? 
But if the Church teach the truth ; if she comes with a message 
from God, it is not in her power, nor in my power, nor in any 
man's power, to change it. I come to preach to you the very 
words of Christ : " He that will not hear the Church, let 
him be as a heathen and a publican." If I come then and say, 
" It is not necessary to hear the Catholic Church ; if you 
love the Lord and believe, it is all right : " if I say that I am 
telling a lie and I am damning my own soul. I cannot do it. I 
must preach the message which Christ our Lord has given me. 
I should be glad to preach a wider faith if God would let me ; 
but I must preach the message of God. If they steel their 
hearts and turn their ears against our doctrines, God will hold 
them accountable ; for He has said : He that believeth not, 
shall be condemned." 

Not only, my brethren, is the voice of Christ heard in that 
Church in the truth which has never changed nor contradicted 
itself; but the second great action of the Church of God is pre- 
figured in our Divine Lord's action in this day's Gospel. 
Peter, He said, launch out thy boat into the deep ; and let 
down thy nets for a draught. It is no longer a question 
of preaching. The people have heard the Lord's voice ; they 

41 



642 



The Divine Comniissio7i of the Church. 



have retired from the shores of the lake, and scattered them- 
selves to their homes, each one taking with him whatever of 
that word fell upon the soil of a good heart. Now, the next 
operation begins ; and it is between Christ and Peter. Launch 
out into the deep," He says ; cast forth thy net." Peter cast 
out his net, and he filled his boat with fishes. What does this 
mean ? It means the prefiguration of the saving and sacra- 
mental action of the Church of God ; for not only is the voice 
of Christ heard ; but the action of Christ is at work in her, 
taking you and me, and all men who will submit to that 
action, out of the waters of passion and impurity, and vain 
desire, and every form of sin, and lifting us up by sacramental 
action, out of those waters, and placing us in the ship under 
His very eyes — in the light of His sanctity and the brightness 
of His glory. His action lies in the Catholic Church, and she 
alone can draw forth from the stormy, destructive waters of sin, 
the soul that will submit to be so drawn. A man falls into that 
sea : — a man — like Peter, in another portion of the Gospel — the 
Christian man — treading upon the fluctuating waves of his own 
passion, of his own evil desire and wickedness, can scarcely 
keep his footing, and can only do it as long as he fixes his eye 
upon Jesus Christ, and adheres to Him. But a moment comes, 
as it came to Peter, when the waves seem to divide under our 
feet, when man is sinking, sinking into the waves of his own 
passions, of his own baseness, into the waves of his own corrupt 
nature, when he feels that these waves are about closing over 
him. He is lost to the sight of God ; and he sees Him no 
more. God sees him no more with the eyes of love ; God 
sees him no more with the eyes of predilection. He has lost 
his past with all its graces, and his future with all its hopes ; 
he has gone down in the great ocean of human depravity and 
human sin, and he has sunk deeply into these waters of de- 
struction. Oh ! what hand can save him ! what power can 
touch him! The teacher of a false religion comes with his mes- 
sage of trust and confidence ; comes with its message of glozing 
and flattery ; comes to tell this fallen, sinful man ; You are 
an honest man ; you are an amiable man ; you have many good 
gifts ; be not afraid ; trust in the Lord ; it is all right ; " whilst the 
serpent of impurity is poisoning his whole existence. Oh ! that 
I had the voice of ten thousand thunders of God, that I might 



The Divine Commission of the Church, 



643 



stifle the false teachings, and drown the voice of those who are 
poisoning the people by pandering to their vices and flattering 
their vanity, and not able — nor willing even if able — to teach the 
consequences of their sins ! The Catholic Church alone, ignor- 
ing whatever of good there may be in a man, if she finds him in 
mortal sin, lays her hand upon that sin ; she makes the man 
touch himself with his own hand, look at himself, and recog- 
nize his miseries. She tears away the bandages with which his 
self-love conceals the wound ; and then, with her sacramental 
power she cuts out all that proud and corrupt flesh ; she 
cleanses the wound with the saving blood of Jesus Christ : she 
brings him forth, from out that slough, that cesspool, of 
impurity and wickedness, and cures him, and brings him 
forth with the tears of sorrow on his face, with a new-born love 
of God in his heart, in the whiteness of his baptismal innocence ; 
and he is now no longer in the wiles of hell ; but he takes his 
place, and lifts up his eyes in gladness before the Lord. What 
other church can do that ? What other religion even pretends 
to do it, and does it? In her sacraments she does it. Her 
sacramental hand will, though sin be sunk into his blood, go 
down and sweep the very bottom of the deep lake of iniquity, 
and take even those who lie there, fossilized in their sin, and 
scrape them up from out the very depths of their misery, and 
make them fit for God once more. As they are out of the way 
of salvation who hear not the voice of the Church — the voice of 
Christ — so, also, these Catholics are outside of the way of salva- 
tion, who will not come and submit to her cleansing and sacra- 
mental power, who refuse to open their souls to her, who refuse to 
come frequently and fervently to her confessional, and to her com- 
munion table. To act thus is as bad as if they refused even to 
hear her voice, even as if they disputed her testimony. The bad 
Catholic is in as bad a position, and in even a worse position — 
than that of the poor man who disputes, and raises questions as to 
whether the soul is immortal, and as to whether Jesus Christ is 
God. Oh, my brethren, let us be wise in time ; let us have the 
happiness to know and to hear the voice that speaks in the 
Church. Oh, let us lay ourselves open to her sacramental power, 
and bare our bosoms to her sanctifying touch and cleansing hand, 
that so we may be guided into the treasures of her choicest and 
best gifts ; that so, if we have not the ineffable gift of purity, if 



644 



TJie Divine Co7)wiissio7i of the Church. 



we have sinned, we may, at least, have our robes washed in the 
waters of grace, and restored to their first brightness through 
Jesus Christ, who is our Saviour : and in this hope, let us pass 
the few remaining days of our lives here, sharing in our mother's 
struggles : taking a hand in her quarrels ; weathering with her 
even.- storm that bursts over us in the confidence that she is 
destined to triumph and to ride in safety over the crest of ever\- 
opposing wave. It will not always be so. The haven is at hand. 
The Church militant passes from the angry ocean of her con- 
tests into the calm and quiet haven of her triumph. Oh, in that 
harbor, no stormy winds shall ever blow : no angr\' waves shall 
ever raise their foaming crests : there, and only there, when the 
night, with its tempests and storms of persecution and of diflfi- 
culty — the night, with its buffetings upon the black face of the 
angr}' ocean — when all that has been passed through : in the 
morning shall the Christian come to catch a glimpse of his eter- 
nity. Then will he hear the voice of Him who was present in 
the storm, saying to the waves. " Be still I Be calm I " and to 
the stormy winds howling around, " Depart 1 Leave us in 
peace." Then the clouds shall fade, and ever}- ripple shall 
cease ; and there, on that ocean, which was so stormy, ever\- 
angr}^ gust of wind shall die away into perfect calm ; and, in 
the distant horizon before us, we shall behold the Church tri- 
umphant — while, like the spread of the illimitable ocean, we 
see that pacific ocean of God's eternity illumined by the sun- 
shine of His blessedness. And there will be ever}^ beauty and 
happiness. All that shall be ours if we only fight the good 
fight, if we only keep the faith, and the commands of God 
delivered to us by His Holy Church. 



